Rehabilitation
by YIWT
Summary: When Loki falls, Thor dives after him and snatches him back. The Allfather punishes his wayward son. Warning for torture. Not slash.
1. Chapter 1 - beginning of Rehabilitation

**A/N: When Loki falls, Thor dives after him and snatches him back. Now the Allfather has to decide how to punish his wayward son. **

**WARNING: (- in all caps, now that I've received a nastygram from a reader who may not have read the warnings carefully.)**

**The story contains torture. Many chapters are composed entirely of torture, specifically: detailed depictions of severe physical and psychological ouches. Injury and trauma are treated seriously and are warned for, but they are here in abundance. No death, not much gore, but there is torture.**

**There is also lots of introspection on Loki's part.**

** There is also Thor/Loki h/c, but it is NOT SLASH. Gotta love fandoms where you have to warn for a *lack* of slash. :o)**

* * *

Loki let go. Thor was screaming _NO_ above him, wild and desperate, and Loki felt a hot surge of pride at having wrecked him this badly. Then he had no more time to think of Thor, because he was falling.

Some time later his fall was arrested by a jarring metallic thud; armor on armor. He tried to focus his eyes in the disorienting glittering darkness, and made out the gleam of Mjolnir. Thor had dived after him.

Loki started to struggle. "What are you doing?" he screamed at the top of his lungs. He couldn't hear himself; he didn't know if Thor could either. "Let me go. Let me die."

_Never, brother._ The words echoed in Loki's head and he didn't know if they were really there, or he had imagined them. How could he tell?

"What is that woman's name?" he shouted. He _couldn't _imagine the answer to that one - he didn't know.

_Her name is Jane, and I will kill or die to protect her. Don't you dare threaten her again._

Classic Thor. "Go back to her. Let me fall."

_I will never let go. I am bringing you home, brother._

"I don't want to go home, and I'm not your brother. Thor, please – if you truly want to help me, then please just let me go."

_Never._

The blackness brightened, Asgard in the distance, coming closer and closer and Loki braced for the impact but Thor had never been the most graceful of flyers. Or landers. His head rang and he rolled and bounced fifty feet down the bridge before coming to rest against a pair of armored boots. The Allfather. Wonderful.

He closed his eyes and hoped to pass out.

* * *

No such luck. A few moments later Loki was kneeling, next to Thor who was also kneeling, heads bowed as they waited for the Allfather to speak.

First, Odin put out his hand and let it hover in the air over Loki's head. Loki felt a curious _emptying, _a pouring-out, and knew without asking that he had just been sapped of his magic.

No matter – he had expected that. He would simply have to convince the Allfather to give it back.

"Loki," Odin began. Quiet, ponderous. Loki tried not to flinch visibly. "You have taken lives. Endangered lives. Committed terrible treason. You deserve to be put to death."

Thor spoke up from the ground. "Father, no," he said. Loki wanted to roll his eyes. Couldn't Thor hear the _but _in what Odin was saying? "I will not have my brother killed. I would sooner die fighting in his defense."

Stupid and misguided as that was, it made Loki's chest hurt a little bit. He reached out along the ground for Thor's hand, and gave it a squeeze.

But he also made his own wishes heard. "Allfather, I know you don't mean to kill me," he said, amazed at the steadiness of his own voice. "But I beg you to reconsider. Everything I loved has been taken from me. My dreams, my friends, my family – even my name. I want to die. Quickly, cleanly, and at once. Please." Finally he looked up.

Odin was staring down at him, and it was impossible not to read compassion in his face. Loki felt his stomach sink. They weren't going to kill him after all. "No, Loki. You will be punished, but not by death."

"Yes! Yes, of course." Thor didn't let go of his hand. "You can banish him, as you banished me, send him down to Midgard, let him learn-"

"_No,"_ Odin said quietly. Thor fell silent at once. "He does not need what you needed. His crimes, his failings, are different."

_What are you going to do to me?_ Loki's tongue was stuck to his mouth. He couldn't manage the words.

Thor said it for him. "Then what will his punishment be?"

"Something terrible that he will never forget," Odin answered at once. "Something that will strip away his pride, and his greed, and the lies he tells himself."

Loki swallowed hard. "Something," he repeated. "What?"

"Come to me in one hour. By then everything will be arranged, and I will explain it to you. Loki?" The Allfather's gaze was hard. "Your word as a prince of Asgard that you will appear as commanded."

Loki shook his head. "I… I can't. I told you: I want death."

"I said _no_." Odin gave an exasperated sigh. "But if you still crave death once your punishment is over, I will give it to you."

"Then I'll come." Not that he had a choice. If he refused, Thor would just-

"I'll make sure, Father." Right on cue, Thor spoke up. "I won't leave Loki's side."

* * *

They spent the next hour in silence. Thor stared with wounded eyes and waited for Loki to speak up, to explain, and Loki glared and tried to keep himself too occupied with hatred to feel sorry. When it was time they went together, falling comfortably in step as always, and when they reached Odin's door they made eye contact one last time. "No matter what, Brother, I love you," Thor said, with more stubbornness than affection.

"Shut up." Loki felt his smile waver and did his best to shore it up. "You'll be a king soon. You can't be so naïve."

They walked in together. Odin was not alone. There were two strange-looking warriors standing beside him, blank, obedient, and of some race Loki had never seen before.

"Are those my jailers?"

"They are your keepers for the time being," Odin agreed. He turned to the creatures and said: "These are my instructions. I say them here with my sons as witnesses, so that Loki will know what lies in store for him and Thor will understand what I have done with his brother." He cleared his throat. Loki readied himself for action. Odin would speak words of banishment, he would mouth some servile garbage, drop to his knees, possibly cry. He would say _Father _and _Brother _as many times as possible.

"Loki is a prince of Asgard, and my beloved son," Odin began. "Therefore I want him treated with all possible respect and civility. While he is in your custody I expect his treatment to befit his station; he is not to be dishonored or degraded without purpose."

"We understand," one of the creatures said. Its voice was low and even. A drone. Loki named them Drone One and Drone Two immediately. Drone Two stepped up beside its fellow. "What would you have done with him?"

"I would have you take him to your dungeons, and torture him until he breaks."

_?_

_That _was not what Loki had expected to hear. He licked his lips, his mind churning, thinking, assessing, planning. Needing to say the right thing – there was no room for error.

Thor did not wait. "_What_? Father. You can't be serious. You-"

Odin held up his hand for silence, sharply, and went on as if the interruption had never happened. "I want you to tear him apart body and spirit," he told the Drones. "His mind is his most powerful weapon. He must suffer until he loses it."

That was sickening – obscene. The world rocked and Loki realized he had gone down to one knee, bracing his hands on the floor for support. His _mind_? Better Odin had ordered them to cut off a limb, put out an eye. At least then he would still be-...

He swallowed down a throatful of acid with determination and spoke up, right words be dammed. He had to say _something._ "_Not that._ Father, please, not that. Anything. Death. _Anything _but my-"

"Father." Thor stood between them and for a few moments Loki felt himself hoping. "I cannot stand by."

Odin only said: "You must trust me."

Thor stood still a moment, and Loki knew what must be running (plodding) through his mind: _My banishment worked out so well; surely Father is just as wise in planning for poor wayward little Loki._

Thor moved aside, and Loki suddenly felt a lot less safe cowering on the ground. He rose up, mouth watering against the bile, trying to blink clarity back to his vision. "Father."

Odin's attention was on the Drones again. "I will want him whole again, after," he said. "So do not maim him. I would also prefer that you not subject him to sexual defilement, as I find the thought incredibly distasteful, but I will leave the decision in your hands."

This could not be happening. Loki stared, all his words deserting him.

"Loki." Odin sighed. "You deserve to suffer for what you have done, and I will not have you sitting even _near _the throne of Asgard until I can trust you better. My son... this is the only way." He stepped close and put a hand on Loki's neck. It was more physical affection than Loki had had from the Allfather since he was six years old, and the surprise helped unfreeze him enough to speak.

"Trust me? How does destroying me make me any more worthy of trust?" he argued desperately. "Trust does not come from torture. Father, what you need to do is-"

"Don't you presume to teach me how to rule." Odin's voice was quiet, but it cut. He removed his hand. "What I _need _to do is find out where you went wrong, how you could have done what you did. I will put you to the question like any traitor until I am satisfied we have found the truth. Once we understand your false ideas, we can replace them with better ones."

Loki's eyes were blurring. "Father, no."

"Go now, Loki. Go with my love and my blessing."

Loki looked once more to Thor, who was also crying. "I am so sorry for you, brother," he said. "For what you have felt and what you have done. But be glad: Father is not casting you out. I will wait for you and greet you with joy when you return. I will help you heal however I can. I will help you find happiness."

"Did- did you not _hear _him?" Loki sputtered. "This is madness. Barbaric." He was so panicked he could hardly draw breath and his mind, it seemed, had already slowed. Something he would perhaps have to get used to.

Odin and Thor did not answer him. At last, one of the Drones spoke up. "Prince Loki. Please cross your wrists."

A long, long silence. _Prince _Loki, it had said. Yes. He would not embarrass himself in front of his f-… in front of _Odin and Thor_, any more than he already had. He stood up straight and found Thor's gaze. He held it while he crossed his wrists in front of him. He held it when the Drone passed some sort of tingling rod over them, sealing them together by a magic that on any other day would have fascinated him endlessly.

He tugged once; the bond did not hurt, but it was unbreakable. Thor looked away.

"Thor. Allfather. I would ask one thing." Loki was pleased that his voice was holding steady. "If my mind is damaged beyond repair, then I want you to kill me. I do not want to live on as a madman, or an idiot, or a vegetable. Will you grant me that?"

"Brother, I swear it," Thor said, his voice thick.

Odin said: "It will not come to that, my son."

It was cold comfort.

* * *

TBC.

I love comments. They keep me going. If you're enjoying this, please let me know! I'll post again tomorrow night.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** In this chapter Loki remains resilient and resourceful. To those of you who are waiting eagerly for the dark bits where he starts to fall apart: Sorry. Next chapter.

* * *

His room was clean and bare. A small simple bed with bedding, a light overhead, a toilet and sink in the corner. A clock on the wall.

"You may think of this room as a place of safety, Prince Loki," Drone One told him. "You will not be harmed while you are here. You will not be harmed at all tonight, or tomorrow. The morning after that, we will come fetch you and we will bring you to the dungeons to begin. Raise your hands."

Loki did as he was told, and out came the magic binding rod. When his hands were free Drone Two came close. "Prince Loki? Take off your cloak and armor, please," he said.

The constant _Prince Prince Prince_-ing was already beginning to annoy him. "Oh, just Loki," he said with what he hoped was a winning smile. "I'll have courtesy if you don't mind, but you are not my servants or my subjects. Unfortunately."

The friendly overture seemed to sail right over their empty little heads. "As you wish, Loki. Do you need help with your armor?"

"Yes, thank you." Loki let them remove it – one didn't wear armor in the house anyway. When it was off and he stood just in his trousers and tunic he felt lighter, but also more vulnerable. He held his head high. "Is that all?"

"Cross your wrists behind your back."

Loki did as he was told, turning away so they could reach him with the rod. It was best, he knew, to store up as much goodwill as possible by cooperating now. Even with such a silly precaution – did they think he planned to try to escape this cell? He didn't even know what _planet _he was on. Where did they expect him to try to go?

Once he was secured the Drones stepped away from him. "You can rest until the morning after tomorrow," one reminded him.

They left. Loki was so worn out that he headed straight for the bed, wriggled underneath the covers, and curled up on his side where his bound hands wouldn't get in the way. He fell into a deep sleep immediately.

... And woke up after just an hour, as his left arm was numb and his shoulder throbbing. He reflexively tried to move, then remembered he was tied, and then flopped over onto his other side with a sigh. The pins and needles of feeling returning to his left hand was annoying, but after a few moments it subsided and he dropped right off again.

Fifty minutes later and he was awake. His other shoulder, now, crushed beneath him. He tried to roll back to his left side and slide back into sleep again, but his shoulders were both already sore and it was uncomfortable to rest his full weight on them. He was so exhausted though, too exhausted to move, and he just lay limp, trying to ignore the unpleasant pressure, and eventually he managed a sort of light doze.

By rolling side to side, sitting up periodically to stretch as best he could, and by being so bone-weary he could hardly open his eyes, Loki got through another few hours. But there came a time when the ache in his shoulders was so fierce it kept him from resting, and then he had to try something else.

He lay on his back. But that crunched his wrists together and dug into his spine; within seconds he gave that up and flipped onto his stomach. There he couldn't breathe. He arched his back hard to try and keep his face from being lost in the pillow, and it didn't work, and his frustration finally got the best of him and he started to rage. He snarled at his own stupidity and weakness, to be defeated by such a simple thing as hands tied behind his back. He looked at the clock and realized the night was half gone and he was running out of time to rest, and all he had managed so far was to become even more tired than before. He twisted and tried to find some comfortable way of lying, and failed, and yanked at his bindings and eventually started to cry. Crying felt good, and he did it for a while. He wished Thor were here to pound him into the pavement again and make him cry harder.

When the tantrum was over he knew that the bed was a lost cause. He sat up, awkwardly, and swung his legs over the side. He got out of bed. He lay down on the cold hard floor on his stomach, held his breath and listened to his body.

He could sleep like this, he decided after a moment. It wasn't comfortable, but it would do. He knelt up and turned around to grab at his blankets, and managed to bring one down on top of him so that he would be a little warmer. Then he slept.

* * *

He awoke to the light hydraulic hiss of his door opening. He saw the back of a Drone as it went out, wondered how he had failed to hear it come in, and then stopped caring when he saw that it had left him food.

A tray, on a little table in the center of the room. A bowl of some sort of warm grain mush and a tall glass of something that was an alarmingly-intense shade of dark yellow.

There was a spoon and a napkin laid out beside the food, which reminded Loki that _his fucking hands were tied behind his back _and he wouldn't be able to eat it.

He looked up to the ceiling. There must be a spying device in here; what was the purpose of tormenting him if there was nobody to see it? "Very amusing," he called. "If you're hoping I'll throw my face in it I'm afraid you're going to be disappointed."

The mush was filling the air with a tantalizing cinnamon aroma and Loki's stomach was rumbling. Without his sorcery, he didn't know how to shut it up other than by eating. But he couldn't imagine a way to eat with dignity, and he would rather be hungry than sloppy.

He froze. He _would _rather be hungry than sloppy. But teaching his captors that truth would only give them information about how to torture him more effectively. So he forced a smirk and added aloud: "But I don't plan to let you deprive me of my breakfast."

He went and knelt by the table. It smelled _so good _that for a moment he really did want to just lean forward and dive in. But his hair was hanging loose, and he didn't want to get clumps of food in it, so he couldn't approach the bowl from above. He would have to think of something else. Preferably before the substance got cold; he imagined it would not be nearly so appealing then.

After a few moments of thought Loki turned to scoop the napkin up with his hands. Behind his back he folded it up and laid it at the edge of the table. He turned to face the table again, trying to memorize everything's position. At last he turned, fumbled for the bowl (slowly, so as not to knock over the yellow drink) and carefully – _carefully – _moved it to rest atop the napkin.

Loki grinned when he saw what he had done; this was going to _work_! He knelt down in front of the table, blew his hair out of his face, and leaned forward to take the rim the bowl between his teeth. He tilted it down, gently. The mush oozed forward. It was warm and _delicious _– and it tasted like achievement.

When he was done he licked his lips and eyed the drink. It smelled good, tart and interesting, and it didn't take him long to figure out a way to get at it. He picked up his bowl and rinsed it in his sink – no easy feat backwards, poured the drink into it – _very _difficult backwards, and repeated his bowl-tilting trick to drink it down.

When breakfast was over he felt prouder of himself than he had in a while. Then, from somewhere dark and bitter the thought bubbled up: _You're such a poor king that you're more fit to kneel on the floor slurping food like an animal_. The thought dimmed his pleasure quite a bit.

His pleasure dimmed further when he looked at the clock and realized that it was after noon already. The day was half over. Before too long it would be time to start tossing ineffectively in bed again. And tomorrow the torture would start.

* * *

Over the course of the afternoon Loki began to need the toilet, but he weighed the cost to his pride and opted against shouting for the Drones and begging for help. He sat with his legs crossed and refused to pay the problem attention.

By evening the need had grown uncomfortable, and by bedtime he was in pain. He told himself he was tired enough to sleep anyway, and laid down on his floor to try.

It wasn't even near possible. Keeping pressure off sore shoulders _and _a full bladder was beyond his power, and he knew almost as soon as he lay down that he was not going to last the night. He seethed and glared in the semi-dark of his cell, and considered his options.

Asking for help was too humiliating – out of the question. Pissing his pants was even further out of the question, and so that left either waiting for morning, which he knew he could not manage, or finding a way to use the toilet himself.

What he had on his legs were the tight sheathe trousers he wore underneath his armor. They didn't have fastenings in the front, for which he was very grateful, but they clung to him like a second skin and he wasn't sure he would be able to get out of them without both hands free to roll them down his hips.

He _knew_ he wouldn't be able to accomplish it without a lot of undignified wriggling and tugging and gyrating. He would prefer nobody see that. Even the Drones – whatever they were.

Would it be better to do it underneath a blanket? No, if he did that they might think he was masturbating. Given Odin's concern that the Drones might rape him, it seemed unwise to draw their attention to sexuality of any kind. It would be better to just undress out in the open. Maybe if he did it quietly they wouldn't notice.

He stood up, rolling his protesting shoulders to loosen them as best he could, and tucked his fingers into the back of his waistband.

Instantly the lights flared up to full power. He squinted, waiting for his eyes to adjust. He was hot and dizzy with hatred. They were _watching_ this. But his bladder was burning and he had no other options.

He kept his eyes squeezed closed and focused all his attention on his hands. He slid them as far as they could go in either direction, breaking the seal between the material and his sweaty skin, biting his lip against the pain in his guts. He should not have waited this long. What if he couldn't last the few minutes it would take to undress?

Unthinkable. He inched the trousers down with his fingertips, bent forwards to create more space, inched them further. He stood up and bent backwards, arching as hard as he could, pinching for the slick fabric at the backs of his thighs and hissing when he pinched too hard and got skin too. He thrust his hips to one side and then the other, clenching his thighs together, inching further down. Pinch. Tug. Wriggle.

He was making progress. _Almost, _he promised himself. Almost. He tried to use his feet, pushing one against his opposite calf, but the trousers stuck too tightly and wouldn't slide. He finally had to fall to his knees (his bladder almost exploded at the pressure), and lean backwards to get his fingers to his ankles. He tugged, inch by inch, still using his hips side to side, past caring that people could see him struggling on the floor humping at nothing. He was very, very nearly ready to beg.

Then his knee was emerging. Now he could bring his legs into play, stand up and tug the trousers the rest of the way off with his feet. His underpants were child's play by comparison; he yanked at them and was too rough and heard them rip, but it didn't matter.

Bent over and limping he ran to the toilet, and sat down because he couldn't see a feasible way of reaching his dick to aim it. He rolled his hips and leaned forward – if he missed now and pissed all over the floor this would all have been for nothing.

Success.

It wasn't until he had emptied himself entirely that he could manage to care that people had seen the whole thing. And even then, one he _did _care there wasn't anything he could do about it immediately; his guts were still twisting and cramping, and he was afraid to try to get up.

Once he was certain that his body was finished punishing him for his stubborn procrastination, he stood up and went to retrieve his clothing. Underpants went on easily enough; he lay on his back and arched and worked them up with his hands.

The trousers were another story. It took him twenty minutes to inch the cursed things up his legs, kneeling, then lying on his back on the bed kicking his feet up in the air, kneeling again, and finally standing to tug them wearily up those last few inches.

The acrobatics required by that whole exercise had completely worn him out. His hands and wrists were sore and creaking, and his shoulders hurt so badly that even light pressure forced him to bite down on a groan. There was no conceivable way to lie comfortably. In the end he just sat on the floor against his bed, rested his head back on his pillow, and slept that way.

It was not a very restful sleep, but by that point Loki would take what he could get.

* * *

**TBC.**

Oatmeal and orange juice, in case you're wondering about Loki's food. I somehow got a kick out of feeding a captive God of Chaos a nice traditional balanced breakfast.

For research purposes I did in fact tie my hands and figure out a method of eating oatmeal neatly despite long hair. The reason you need to fold up the napkin and place the bowl on it is that if the bowl rests just on the table itself, as you start to tip it it will slide, and you lose your grip on it and it falls. The napkin-pad underneath lets it stay stable. (It took me a few tries to think of this, but I think Loki's clever enough to have come up with it right away.) So, in case you're ever tied up and need a way to eat oatmeal, now you know.

Also, thanks guys who commented! lavidaloki, QueenOfAwesomness, Rubbish78: glad you're enjoying! ElizaAcheron: glad I've horrified you! :o)


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: New plan. The hit count for this story is pretty humongous. The odds that all of those people want to read graphic scenes of pain & terror are pretty slim, so I've decided to split the next few chapters up in a way that will allow the squeamish to skip the squeam. Those who skip the dungeon bits will have to use their imagination to explain why Loki is in such poor condition, but the story will still be comprehensible.**

**This chapter is dungeon. Skip it if you like; the aftermath, where Loki thinks and talks and maybe gets a visit from Thor, will be posted as a separate chapter. Possibly tonight, though more likely tomorrow.**

A brief recap for those who missed it or are lazy about reading long author notes:

**TORTURE WARNING.**

* * *

In the morning Drone One unbound Loki – achy, tired, cranky Loki – and then said: "Now please remove everything you're wearing."

Loki blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"Strip naked."

His instinct was to hesitate, to refuse… but they could force the issue, he knew, and he would lose. The least he could do was deprive them of the pleasure of breaking him, and spare himself the indignity of having his clothes ripped off. "Of course," he purred. "Not quite as impressive as a naked Thor, but worth seeing, I promise you." He undressed quickly and without ceremony, and left everything in a heap on the floor.

He half-expected to be made to bend and pick it all up, and fold it like some kind of servant, but the Drone surprised him by bending to do it himself. That gave Loki courage enough to ask: "Will I be getting breakfast?" He hadn't had anything since yesterday morning's bowl ordeal, and he was famished.

"No."

"Well, I'm hungry. When will I next be fed?"

"After. We don't feed people before; they always vomit."

"Ah, I see." One gestured for Loki's hands and Loki gave them, again on the principle that it was better to cooperate than to be forced. When the invisible cuffs were applied, he didn't tug on them. "Now what?"

"This way." The Drone unlocked his cell and gestured for him to walk out.

There were more Drones in the hallway to escort them. Maybe because he had been starved of conversation for too long, or maybe because it was quite awkward to walk nude and silent amidst a crowd of armed guards, Loki finally spoke to one of them. "Hello there. My name is Loki. What's your name?"

It looked at him and shook his head.

"You don't talk at all, then? Your friends talk."

"I talk."

"Just not to me?"

"I am talking to you. And listening. You're Loki."

"That's right." Loki tried to make eye contact and give him a smile, but the Drone wouldn't look. Very well, if he couldn't make friends perhaps at least he could get some information. "What else do you know about me?"

"I know that this is your first time down the dungeons."

Loki nodded. "How do you know that?" he said, politely. Keep it talking. Where does their information come from? What sort of command center is there?

"Because you're walking all by yourself. Next time we'll drag you, kicking and screaming. The time after that, you'll have to be carried."

Loki couldn't help himself. He purred: "_Oooh,_ how dramatic,_" _ with a grin. "And the time after _that_?" Never let it be said that he had missed an opportunity to be irreverent.

"I've never seen anybody last a fourth trip. Here we are." The Drone unlocked a room and nudged Loki inside.

* * *

There were _things _on the walls, racks of things, ominous things with spikes and blades and pincers. After one quick glance Loki knew that it was better not to look. He could see out of the corners of his eyes that there was furniture too, big old machines made of wood and chains and stained with old blood. _Just for show,_ he told himself, and didn't look. He of all people knew how deceiving appearances could be.

They led him to a chair, a plain innocuous metal chair, but he noticed that it was bolted into the ground. No matter. He sat down as requested, let them use the binding rod to tie his feet down and fold his arms behind his back.

It was not an uncomfortable position, but Loki did not like being helpless. Or naked. Or in a torture chamber.

There was a short lull before anybody came to speak to him, and he found himself breaking his resolution not to look around. He was realizing that of all the chaos and death he'd seen and caused, he knew very little about actual, methodical torture. He'd always considered it too organized for his taste. Boring.

(Although, as the Drones moved around him setting up, he was anything but bored.)

A Drone he didn't recognize came in carrying a big pail, and set it on the floor. Loki heard liquid sloshing and wondered: hot oil? Acid? What could they possibly have in there that would break a god?

The new Drone produced a big drinking horn, and filled it from the bucket. He held it near Loki's face. "Morning, Loki. Drink."

Immediately he didn't _like _this Drone, and not just because it was apparently in charge of mistreating him. Most of the other Drones seemed blank, almost mindless, but this one… Drone Three, he decided… was smiling. It was _enjoying_ itself.

He didn't want to cooperate. He tossed his head, turning away as far as he could. "No. What is it?"

The Drone laughed. "Not that it matters, because you'd take it regardless, but this is just water. Now drink. All of it."

"Thanks, but I'm not thirsty."

Drone Three beckoned over his shoulder, and was handed a pair of tongs. The tongs held a piece of glowing metal, and Loki could see the heat rising from it, shimmering in the air. The Drone didn't mention it, didn't even turn to _look_ at it. He just said: "Drink."

Loki drank.

It took a while; the horn was enormous. He choked on a bout of inopportune laughter when he remembered watching Thor strain at this very task once on a stupid, stupid dare.

This horn didn't hold quite the whole sea, but it was big enough, and Loki had a new sympathy for his brother when he was done. The cold water was giving him a stomachache. He burped, and squirmed, and waited for it to settle. "If you wanted a drinking contest, you'd have been better off with Thor, you know," he suggested. "Did you ever hear about the time he…-" He fell silent when he saw that they were filling the horn again.

"Drink."

With that chunk of glowing metal in its other hand the Drone seemed very persuasive. Loki drank again, chugging it down as fast as he could, hoping the Drone would have a little patience when he needed to pause and catch his breath. When he was done he felt decidedly unwell.

And they were already filling it a third time.

He chuckled, bitterly. Knowingly. This would probably cost him a burn, but some things were more important than pain. "You were watching me last night," he guessed. "And you thought it was _funny_. Are you hoping for a repeat performance? You won't get one. Go fuck yourselves."

Drone Three sighed and nudged the pail with his foot. "We're going to get this all into you, one way or another. If you won't drink it, then we'll flip you over and use a tube."

Loki followed its gesture and saw that among all the other horribles hanging on the wall were, in fact, a number of hoses and funnels. He weighed his options. It didn't take long; there were none. "That won't be necessary," he said, looking away from the wall and meeting Three's eyes with his best attempt at appeasement. "I'll drink."

The third horn was a longer ordeal, because he had to stop several times to wait out an urge to retch. He kept on, doggedly, hating the Drones but hating himself even more, this pitiful weak little body that rebelled at a simple order like _swallow._ Without his magic he was truly contemptible.

When he was finally done he closed his eyes. "I'm going to vomit," he said, as calmly as he could. "And soon I will need a toilet."

"We'll take care of that in a minute." He wasn't surprised to feel the horn brushing against his cheek. "But first, once more."

His stomach was truly hurting. He wasn't sure how much water it was healthy to drink at a time, but he was sure he had long passed the mark. At the thought of taking more he gagged, and only avoided throwing up by the narrowest of margins. "Wait," he said, and pressed his lips together.

He'd forgotten about the metal. A quick burn on his knee made him cry out, and the horn was shoved into his mouth. Several hands grasped at his hair, his neck, his skull, holding him in place. He tried to keep from swallowing, but then someone squeezed his nose shut.

The primal need for air destroyed all capacity for thought. He struggled mindlessly, uselessly, until somebody pinched his ear hard and murmured into it: "Drink. Just one swallow. Swallow once."

Out of pure desperation he did as he was told, and amazingly, his nose was let free. He sucked in deep breaths one after the other. His heart was hammering so loudly he almost didn't hear the warning: "Now drink, or it will happen again."

He nodded frantically, as best he could against all the hands, and drew another mouthful from the horn. Another. And another. His stomach ached and he hesitated, but fingers ghosted over his nostrils. "Keep going."

He was _trying,_ but sharp cramps made it very difficult. His leg was burned again. That made him shriek, but opening his throat let in a flood of water and for a moment he was certain that he was drowning. He choked, gasping and only managing to draw in more water. When he couldn't recover on his own the horn was eventually withdrawn, and the Drones waited without comment while great racking coughs brought liquid up out of his mouth and nose.

The coughing hurt badly. He tried to stop, but before he could recover all the way the horn was in front of his face again. "Drink, Loki. You did not finish."

"I can't," he protested, weakly. So weakly that a stern growl was enough to make him capitulate. He sipped slowly, squirming with every swallow, forcing himself to go on because he just didn't dare to stop. Periodically someone would touch his nose, to remind him, and he would squeak and gulp a little faster.

By the time he was done the water had at last made it to his bladder. "The toilet now." He tried not to beg. "You said."

"We said we'd take care of it," Drone Three agreed. Almost jolly. It stepped in front of him with the binding rod and Loki expected to be cut loose… but instead, Three bent to his lap and moved the rod over it. "There," it said. "It's taken care of. Now you don't need a toilet."

"_What_?" Loki strained at once but there was pressure all around his penis and _he couldn't piss._ "No! That's not- No!"

"And you also wanted to vomit, didn't you? We'll take care of that too." The Drone reached into Loki's mouth, and before he could muster the presence of mind to bite it was scrubbing fingers over his tongue, to the back of his throat, and suddenly he was erupting like a geyser. Water shot out with unbelievable violence, out his mouth and up through his nose, and he was still choking and drowning long after it stopped.

Once the agonizing convulsions died down, the bindings holding Loki to the chair were all that kept him from falling over.

But the unbearable pressure of his overfilled stomach had eased somewhat, at least. He blew water and throatslime out of his nose, and tried to congratulate himself on surviving.

Drone Three interrupted his congratulations. "Ready for another drink?"

* * *

By the time it was finally over he was so ill he had to be dragged back to his room. They freed him to piss, which he did for longer than he ever had in his life, but even afterwards his belly looked so bloated he could almost pass for pregnant. It felt like someone had driven knives in. He tried to vomit, but he'd been forced so many times already today that his stomach had given up, and could not be made to heave. He collapsed in a boneless heap beneath the sink.

_This room is a place of safety, Loki. _He looked around, not sure if they'd said it aloud or if he was only remembering. Either way, he wanted to stay here. He hugged his toilet with both arms, resting his face against its cool smooth base, and waited to feel better.

Drone Three laughed. "Did you know Midgard calls that _worshipping at the porcelain throne_?"

Loki wanted to tell him to fuck off, but he managed – with heroic effort – to keep quiet.

"We will wait for one hour, Loki," said Drone One. "Then we will take you back to the dungeons, to begin."

"Begin?" he rasped, and winced. He'd forgotten how sore his throat would be. "Begin what?"

Several of the Drones answered him at once. "Interrogation."

He clung to the toilet. "How about two hours. Or three."

* * *

TBC.

The other half of this chapter is light on violence and heavy on brain-picking. I'll hurry with it as fast as I can.

Let me know what you think!


	4. Chapter 4

When it was time to return to the dungeons, they didn't exactly drag him kicking and screaming… but they did drag him. His legs didn't seem to want to walk in the proper direction. He kept stopping. Wincing. Falling against the walls. He mumbled _I can't do this_ more times than he could count. When they ushered him in and he saw the chair and the bucket still sitting beside it he got dizzy, but the Drones led him away from it and over to a plain, ordinary table.

They bent him over the table, but they had him put his elbows down to take most of his weight. They sealed them there, and let him pillow his head in his arms. The position was the most comfortable he'd rested in in days.

Then Drone Three patted him on the back and said: "Afternoon, Loki." Someone hiked his robe up over his hips. He tried not to panic.

"No tube," he insisted, breathless. "I'll drink, I told you."

Three laughed. "Don't you think you've had enough to drink for one day?" he said. "This is something different."

Loki should be rejoicing that there would be no more water. Instead he was feeling sick with apprehension, even sicker than before. "What?"

Drone One spoke up from somewhere beside him. "This is interrogation, Prince Loki. This first time will not be harsh. You will simply learn the way of it, to prepare you. Then, tomorrow, you will be questioned very rigorously."

"But… not today?" Loki said, hopeful. He would worry about tomorrow when it came.

"Not today." Three took over. "Tomorrow, if you don't answer, or if you lie, then horrible things will happen. Today nothing so horrible. Only this."

He heard a whistle and a _crack, _and a moment later came a terrible flash of pain just below his knees.

He jerked and kicked reflexively. He yelped. After the pain crested and started to ebb he demanded: "What was that?"

Something tickled over his calf, just below the hurt. "Only a cane. A silly little thing, used for minor crimes of minor mortals. First question: do you prefer chocolate cake, or vanilla?"

"What?" he gasped. He was struck again – harder, or maybe his breathless panic only made it seem that way_. _It was a line of bright fire, across his thighs this time.

"Chocolate or vanilla, Prince Loki?"

"Ch-chocolate!" he sputtered. "What kind of question is that? That _hurt_, give me a moment…"

"What color is Thor's battle armor?"

"Thor's battle armor?" he echoed, talking as fast as he could. "Red, it's red. Silver armor with a red cape. And, and there's dark grey accents to it too, and brownish when it gets bloodstains, yes and I think that's all the colors. Yes. That's all I can remember. Don't strike me again."

"Calm yourself, Loki," Drone One said over him. "All you have to do is answer promptly and with honesty."

"Yes. I know. I know," he panted, half to himself, trying for calm.

"Have you ever desired your friend the Lady Sif?"

"That is none of your- _AH_!"

The question was repeated. This time Loki answered it. "Yes of course I have, we all have, anybody with a working cock desires Sif. I'm _sorry_. Of course I never said anything to her about it." It was _stupid _not to have spoken up immediately. He steeled himself not to resist the next question – whatever it was.

"Who is your father?"

"I am the son of Odin-… No! No, wait, don't. I'm not. I'm not, all right? My father was Laufey, a fucking frost-giant. A monster." He had corrected himself to tell the miserable truth, so he was taken completely by surprise when another stroke lit up his legs. "_No!_" he cried. "You little- I fixed it! I _told _you! I'm sorry!" The injustice, as well as the pain, made his eyes water. Also he had jerked hard enough to crush his aching stomach against the table, and he felt sick. He was in no way ready to field the next question…

But it came anyway. "How old were you when you first kissed a girl?"

His mind scrambled to produce the information before the hurt came.

* * *

All in all it was an enlightening experience. Now he knew what they meant by _interrogation_: make him hurt and exhausted – weak – and pepper him with questions, some pointless, others embarrassing, and a few truly significant. He wondered whether he would be able to deceive effectively under those conditions. He had not yet dared to try.

Enlightenment had come at a price though; they'd hit hard enough to raise thick welts and then hard enough to burst some of them. Below the waist Loki was all striped with neat parallel cane lines, and ticklish trickles made their way down his legs, blood mingled with sweat – horrid, _stinging_ sweat.

When they finally released him and he tried to straighten up off the table, he almost broke his resolution not to cry. They had lifted his feet at times to beat him on his soles, and the prospect of putting his weight down and walking represented more pain than he thought he could handle.

"Do you want to be carried?" one of the Drones asked, neutrally. Even helpfully. But Loki flinched.

"Don't touch me!" he spat, wishing he had something – magic, friends, a weapon, _something_ with which to enforce his will. "Stay away."

"As you wish. Can you walk?"

He shook his head, unwilling to even try.

"Then, crawl."

He dropped down at once; his pride might sting a little, but his legs stung worse. It was the right choice. He made it back to his room silently and with about as much dignity as he could pretend to after the way the day had gone so far. When he was safe inside he made himself stand, and the Drones gave him a nice soft robe to put on.

They brought food for him… but then out came the binding rod. Loki stepped away. "Let me eat first," he said. "You might as well. If I spill everywhere you're the ones who will have to clean it up."

They gestured for his hands.

"I… it would be a great kindness to me," he tried, with his best look of pathetic entreaty. "I wouldn't forget it."

They reached for him anyway.

"Wait- you can't! My father said you're not to humiliate me for no reason," he remembered in a rush. "And there is no reason for this."

Those, miraculously, were the magic words. The Drones exchanged glances and then shrugged. "So eat."

Loki limped carefully over to his table and knelt to examine his dinner. Bread, potato, some plain chicken. He was _starving, _but wasn't sure he could handle this. _Slowly, _he told himself. _Small bites, rest in between, stop if there's pain._ He took his time, and his guards showed no signs of impatience. When he had finally eaten all he could keep down – which was not much – he thanked them politely and then crossed his wrists without being told.

But instead of binding him right away they gestured to a spout and drain he hadn't even noticed in the corner. "Would you like to clean yourself too?"

He felt sticky all over. Going days without magic was really a filthy business, and he limped over to the shower before they could change their minds.

He stood under the warm water for a long time, groaning, soaping himself lethargically and mostly just enjoying the freedom and the soothing heat on his sore body. The Drones didn't disturb him, but eventually, not wanting to push his luck, he stepped out anyway. They handed him a small jar. "When you go home your father will likely magick you back to health," Two explained, "but we don't know when that will be. In the meantime, this will keep your wounds clean and speed their healing."

"Many thanks. Honestly." He rubbed the ointment in, flinching at the ugly feel of ridges across the backs of his legs. It reminded him too much of _them, _their blue patterned skin, and suddenly he wanted to claw his own skin all off. He threw his robe on as fast as possible to hide the mess he was, and waited meekly for his bondage.

They had him clasp his hands behind his head, and sealed them there. "Sleep well, Loki." It did not sound like a pleasantry, but a warning. "You will need to be rested tomorrow."

* * *

Once they were gone he grit his teeth and lay down on his bed. The salve did help, but still, it was not pleasant to lie on welts and bruises. It was even less pleasant to roll on them though, and so once he found a comfortable position on his back he resolved to stay put until morning.

The lights were still bright. He stared at the ceiling and wondered what he was supposed to be doing. It took him longer than it should have to realize he was probably supposed to be doing exactly that: wondering. Thinking. Repenting.

He wasn't quite ready to start repenting, but he _was_ ready to analyze the things he had said today, and reassure himself that he hadn't let slip anything terrible under the torture. So many of the questions had been meaningless, but there was one exchange…

_"Would you really have paid Thor's mortal woman a visit?"_

_"What? OW! Wait WAIT – I just didn't understand the question, you imbecile! A visit?"_

_"While you were trying to kill your brother, you told him-"_

_"Ho. Stop. I was not trying to kill my brother. AH! I wasn't! AAH – OW! I swear I was not. I wasn't! Stop __–_ what's the point of questioning me if you won't even hear the truth when I tell it?"

_"We will discuss Thor later, Loki, have no fear. For now, answer the question. Would you really have paid the mortal woman a visit after your brother was dead?"_

_"After…? If my brother had been killed, I would have destroyed anyone who had the tiniest part in it, all of Midgard included, so: yes, I suppose that would qualify. But if you're asking whether I was telling Thor my actual plans or just trying to rile him, well I'll leave you to guess that one. Can you really be as stupid as you look?"_

Loki winced, remembering. That had set off the worst of the caning. He'd been hit over and over and over again until he finally cooperated and howled _No I wouldn't have_ and _I wouldn't have hurt her!_ Afterwards he'd had a bit of a break, which was a good thing because he had been feeling too stunned and… yes, he could admit it here where no one heard him… too _hurt _to go on thinking very carefully. Who came _up _with these questions? What exactly did they think he had planned to do?

He tried to imagine skittering down to Earth and walking into the woman's home. He couldn't – it would never happen. Well… all right, maybe it would. Maybe he would appear to her as Thor and fuck her better than Thor ever had, and then rub Thor's face in it afterwards. He couldn't suppress a smile at the idea. _That_, he might do. Or, maybe he would appear as Thor and end their romance instead, with words like _ugly mortal cow._ So, he supposed that _No I wouldn't have_ wasn't exactly the truth after all, which was maybe why they'd kept beating him until he came up with the rest.

He sighed. He ought to have words with Thor about all that; if Thor really believed that the woman was in danger, then he was an idiot. But he _didn't, _Loki was certain of it. Once he calmed down he would realize that Loki had only been picking a fight. It was a conversation they had had many times over the years: _I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Loki, I wasn't thinking. You said… and I just… I believed you, I'm sorry._ So many times. _They don't call me the Liesmith for nothing, Thor._

Actually, today was more truth than Loki had told anyone in recent memory. He hoped that his ordeal would end soon before he lost one of his favorite titles.

(And that was _all_ he was thinking about, was his title.)

(The Drones' talk about the horrible things that awaited tomorrow didn't even enter his head.)

(Neither, of course, did Odin's comment about _the lies he tells himself_.)

(Really.)

* * *

In the morning he was shaken awake. "Loki." It was Drone Two, who freed him and helped him sit up very, very slowly. His whole body was stiff and sore.

"You have a visitor," Two told him. "Your brother."

"I don't want to see him," Loki said at once.

"You should see him anyway. After today you won't be in a fit state for visitors for quite a while."

Loki shuddered. He didn't really want to know, but… "What's going to happen today?"

Drone Three appeared in the doorway. "Today you're going to say hello to your brother, and then you're going to come down to the dungeons and cry like a baby."

Suddenly the idea of Thor by his side was not nearly so unappealing. Thor would never allow him to be bullied like this. "Let him in."

Thor came in looking enormous, exuberant… and so magical that it hurt. What Loki wouldn't give for just a fraction of that power now…

"Loki, my brother! How do you fare?"

Loki stood, slowly. "I have been better. But it's good to see you." He remembered, suddenly, his own visit to Thor during Thor's exile. If Thor had come for some sort of payback… He turned away, arms crossed, almost hugging himself. "Why did you come?"

"I only wanted to be sure that-… Loki?" A heavy, hesitant step. "What have they done to you?"

"What?" Loki faced him. He was _certain _that no injury was visible; he would never have allowed Thor to see him if he looked as destroyed as he felt. "What are you talking about? I'm fine."

Thor was pointing down towards his ankles. Oh. He supposed some marks were visible below the hem of his robe. "That is nothing," he said, meaning it. He gathered the robe tighter around him; if Thor saw the rest he would explode. "Honestly. If you fret I'll make you leave. Now come, sit with me. How are Father and Mother?"

They sat down on the bed, side by side, and Thor did not ask about the stiff and painful way Loki moved. Unusually tactful. Perhaps Midgard had really done him some good.

"They are well. They would be better if you were with us."

"Or if I were gone entirely."

"Pssh. They only want you back," Thor insisted. "No more of this talk of dying, brother. I won't allow it. Are you eating enough? You don't look well."

All of a sudden Thor was exhausting. His boyishness, his confidence, his concern, sapped Loki faster than anything else would have. From somewhere he found a smile and reached for Thor's hand. "Thank you for coming, brother. But you should go now – this cell is no place for you."

Thor squeezed. "Could I stay with you today?" he asked, quiet. "While whatever happens, happens? Surely it is better not to be alone."

Loki could hardly imagine how miserable it would be to be tortured in front of Thor, to _kill _himself trying to stay strong in Thor's eyes. Trying and failing, of course. As always.

He nodded to the doorway, where a number of Drones stood waiting. "Oh, I'm not alone. I have these fine people for company." Thor looked properly uneasy, and Loki met his eyes with all the sincerity he could fake. "Go. I'd rather not annoy them by delaying."

"Yes of course." Thor stood up right away. "I will talk to Father again. This cannot be the best way to help you."

"Help me?" Loki couldn't swallow down a burst of bitter laughter. "Is that what we're calling it now? Go, Thor. Don't make me tell you what really goes on here."

"I'll talk to Father," Thor repeated.

"Talk _politely,_" Loki said. "Try not to make him banish you again."

Thor looked pained. "How can you _joke_?"

"When do I not? Go."

* * *

**TBC.**

**Fyi, Loki is not the only one suffering to make the story happen. I've been running on 2-3 hours of sleep _every night this week _to make time for this thing, which probably explains the confused and nightmarish quality of its content. But you guys are awesome, and your encouragement makes it worthwhile. I'm glad you're enjoying (and/or horrified)!**

**As always, let me know what you think. And also: get ready for tomorrow's chapter; it's a doozie. If you're even remotely squeamish, you should probably skip.**


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: This is very brutal, even for me. I actually had a hard time writing it. Don't try this at home.

**TORTURE WARNING. **There's even blood this time.

* * *

They had him strip before limping back to the dungeons again. Now he was _very _glad he had sent Thor away; it was easy to ignore his pride and his station among these strange hateful creatures he did not know, but every sigh and every glance from Thor would be a secret reproach: _how could you let them do this to you_?

He went slow and kept his head bowed, making no effort to quiet his harsh breathing or hide his pain. The more broken they already thought he was, the less they would likely do to him now.

When they reached the dungeons, instead of taking him over to one of the awful machines, they let him stand free in the center of the room. Drone One said: "Open your mouth, prince."

Loki did just the opposite, closing his mouth tightly and questioning with an eyebrow.

Drone Three chuckled and gripped his jaw hard, squeezing until it fell open. With its other hand it reached in, just one finger, and stroked gently. "Here's that silver tongue."

Loki jerked his head free. "Just flesh and blood. Sorry to disappoint."

"No, _I _am sorry. This will go hard with flesh and blood." Three turned and picked up something that clanked. It was an oblong rounded thing, metal, with a key protruding from one end. "Do you know what this is?"

Three's mockery brought out all his most uncooperative instincts. "No, but please enlighten me, I'm always eager to learn."

"Open your mouth and you will."

Not particularly in the mood to eat a weapon, Loki pressed his lips together.

The Drone squeezed again, and banged the thing against Loki's face so hard it cut his lip against his teeth. To escape that Loki opened his mouth, stupidly, and let the device in. It ground against his teeth, a terrible sound, spread his jaws wide, and went back so far he nearly gagged on it.

"Ouw," he protested, trying to toss his head. But the other Drones held him still.

"This is called a _pear,_" Three explained. Loki crossed his eyes and saw that the key was all that protruded from his mouth, and before he could figure out what it did Three grasped it and turned.

"_Ouw!_" he yelped again. The thing had _expanded,_ digging into the roof of his mouth, crushing his tongue down, stretching his jaws so far they ached. "Ngo. Ahs oo ig." Too big by now to spit out.

Three laughed. "Are you trying to _talk_, prince? Clearly you don't understand the way of this at all."

Loki snarled at him, wordlessly.

"Relax now, I'd hate to break your face this quickly." Three reached for the key again and turned it further. It felt like his head was being ripped in half. Fighting only made it worse though, so Loki tried to relax into the stretch, but it still hurt so much he broke out in a sweat and heard himself whimpering. Already.

"And once more," Three said, and turned the key again. Pain speared through his skull like a blow from Thor's hammer. He waited a moment to get used to the feeling, but even after the first fiery shock faded his jaw felt locked, paralyzed, and he tasted blood. He was breathing through his nose, hard and fast. The pear was threatening to cut off his air entirely.

Drone One assured: "Be calm, I will not turn it again," before taking hold of the handle, so Loki didn't fight. But then the Drone pulled upward, forcing Loki's head back, and treated the thing like a very painful leash with which to lead the prisoner around the room. Rather than risk losing teeth Loki went where he was led, until he was finally walked into some sort of thigh-high obstruction.

"The table," Two explained from behind him. "Bend down."

Not _this _again. As if he wasn't bruised enough already!

He let them bind his torso down to the tabletop, because what choice did he have, and then noticed with not much joy that Three had wheeled over a cart of frightening-looking implements that did not include a cane. Then what were they going to do? Already he had had more than enough – his mouth hurt, and there was a headache of epic proportions pounding through his skull. He wanted to go back home to his cell. Now, please.

"Have you really never seen a pear before?" Drone Three asked, holding up another one. This one was bigger, easily twice as long and of alarming girth, and as much as he hurt Loki still felt great relief that they had given him the smaller one instead. "This is how it works." The Drone turned the key a little with his fingers, and Loki saw that the pear was made of sections, like petals, which spread apart just a little at each rotation. Then it gave the key a big spin, and the pear _opened, _all the way, like an ugly metal flower or a slow-motion grenade. When it was fully spread it was nearly the size of his head, and Loki realized that if they opened one that far while it was in his mouth, they would kill him.

He squeaked and squeezed his eyes shut. They _wouldn't,_ he told himself. They would not.

"Bind him more thoroughly," Drone One said.

He felt hands on his legs, urging them apart, wider than was comfortable. His ankles were secured to the table legs, and now he was stuck beyond all hope of moving.

"Loki." Drone Three was still holding the larger pear, the one Loki was thanking his stars they were not using. "This one does not go in your mouth."

Someone laid a hand on his hip. Squeezed. _Then _he got it, and he started struggling frantically against his bindings, shrieking around the metal in his mouth, cutting himself on it until the spit he was spraying turned bloody.

"Prince Loki." Drone One. Drone One, quiet and formal, had never yet proposed anything that would kill him. He tried to quiet down and listen, but he was nearly hysterical. "We will use the other pear to interrogate you," it explained. "For that you will need to speak. Please hold still, and we will remove what is in your mouth."

Loki made himself hold still. The bone-deep pain in his jaws had ceased to concern him now that such worse things were at stake, and he hardly cared whether they chose to relieve him of it or not. But speech… that would be important. It was his best chance. Right now his only chance. He held still, even craned his neck so that they could get at the key more easily. They turned it slowly, shrinking the dreadful device bit by bit, closing it down until it could be tugged from between his lips amidst a gush of bloody drool.

He tried to spit the blood out onto the tabletop, but his face hurt so badly he couldn't make the motions necessary to spit. He just drooled. "Hleathe." _Fuck,_ he couldn't even talk. He tried to work his jaw around, but it would not cooperate. He recalled an ugly popping sound that had happened in the midst of his screaming, and wondered if he had done himself real damage.

A Drone grabbed his face, roughly, and dug fingers into his cheeks. Assessing, aligning… massaging almost. The pain was terrible, but when it was over he found his mouth would move more or less the way he wanted it to. Painfully, but it moved. "Please," he tried again, and it came out much better this time. "You can't. _Don't._"

Even as he said it there were hands on his buttocks, spreading him apart. He had no time to convince them. No time even to think of how to try. He felt something wet and cold, and fought the instinct to tense up. Without any further pause or warning they set the pear against him and shoved.

It tore him, with pain so sharp and spearing that at first he didn't even notice invasion into his body. Eventually the shock of entry subsided though, and _then _he noticed; the pressure of a huge metal device distending his bowels was unbearable.

His bloody lips were pressed together but he wasn't silent; every breath was a throaty _MMMN_ he could do nothing to control.

One of the Drones said: "Give him a moment. Then we ask questions." They all withdrew a step or two.

Loki tried to breathe deep and relax, but the pain was beyond anything he'd ever felt and he could not make it manageable. "Please, it's too much," he panted at last. "Please take it out. I can't." His whole body was cramping. His teeth hurt, he was trying to grit them together but his face would not do as it was told. He was awash with pain and had no idea how to make it better.

"Loki. Does your brother fight left- or right-handed?"

Loki just moaned. He couldn't, he _couldn't_ handle questions. He couldn't handle anything.

He felt vibration through his insides, realized someone was taking hold of the key, and started to shout well in advance of the pear's expansion. The key turned, he screamed instead of answering, and after a moment it turned again.

Then they waited for him to get hold of himself. "Focus. Answer and save yourself," Drone Two urged. "Does your brother fight with his left hand, or his right?"

Loki closed his eyes. _Focus. _"His right," he whispered, floating on a cloud of agony. He couldn't feel his arms and legs. All he knew was the terrible force crushing him from within.

"Good. What color is the cloak you wear in battle?"

"Green."

"How many eyes does the Allfather have now?"

"One."

And so on. It was a while before he realized that the questions were all easy, lulling, and still a while after _that _before he had the spirit to do anything but answer them.

"How many legs does a horse have?"

He felt an urge to say: _Depends on the horse._ But he caught himself in time, and answered, "Four," and hoped that the momentary hesitation would not cost him.

They didn't comment on the return of his wits, but they did notice it. At once the questions grew less innocuous. "Have you ever failed to please a bed partner?"

"Um. Yes – when I was drunk. At least a few times when I was drunk. Never when I was sober – that I know of."

"Has Thor ever tickled you until you were forced to beg mercy?"

"Yes. How-? Fuck you for knowing."

"Tell us more."

"He-, when we were children, he did it in front of our friends, is that what you want to hear?" he snarled. In case it wasn't enough he went on. "That he humiliated me in front of everyone? That it shamed me, made me angry? That I got revenge for it one day, when I learned a spell that made his cock stand up in the middle of training so that nobody wanted to wrestle with him, and he _cried _because he thought there was something wrong with him, and I comforted him and made a very caring brotherly face when all I wanted to do was _laugh, _is that what you want to hear?"

"Do you believe that your brother loves you?"

"Thor is an idiot." His tongue had run away with him.

Pain erupted in his bowels.

"Not an answer. Do you believe that your brother loves you?"

He couldn't think through the cramping. It was like an iron fist had taken hold of his innards and squeezed. "Stop, _stop _it!"

That wasn't an answer either, and they cranked again. He almost didn't hear as they asked a third time: "Do you believe that Thor loves you, or not? Answer the question."

He pulled his scattered wits together just in time and cried _YES_, and they did not turn the key again. "_Yes, _he does, all right, Thor loves me, please, please for the sake of all that's holy please stop." Black spots were dancing in his vision. "Mercy. No more. _Mercy._"

"How many pillows do you keep on your bed?"

"What-? Two, four, six," he counted aloud. "Six, I have six. Please stop. Please – a moment, I need a moment. Please. Mercy – I don't know. I don't know anything. I can't answer anything. Please."

He felt a dull jarring that said someone had placed a hand on the key. He started to whimper.

But the next question was easy: "Have you ever had anything this large put into your body before?"

"No!" he spat. "For fuck's sake of course not! Do you think I have a death wish?"

"Why did you bring frost-giants into Asgard on the day of your brother's first coronation?"

Loki's mind froze. "I-…"

The key turned – just a little, just enough to freshen his agony. "Why did you bring the frost-giants, Loki?"

"I, I don't know," he wailed. Hysterical. "Please don't, please, _I don't know_!"

"Loki." The key turned, hard.

"I swear, I swear it, I swear I don't know!" He didn't know a single thing beyond that he was being torn apart.

"Don't know what, Loki?" a Drone asked, near his ear. "Do you even remember the question?"

"Thor, Thor, something about Thor! Oh, _please_…" He knew as he said it that it wasn't the answer, but he couldn't think, and he just lay still and sobbed with abandon and waited to be ripped.

A long time passed, and though the pain was awful it did not get worse. In fact, when his mind collected a little he could feel that nobody was touching the key at all.

"Loki? Answer."

He drew in a shuddering breath. "Please, what was the question?" he whimpered.

"The frost-giants," a Drone prompted, softly. "Why did you bring them?"

"Because I wanted to spoil Thor's special day." There – that wasn't so hard.

But then, to his vast dismay somebody took hold of the key and jiggled it. "That is a lie, Loki Odinson." Drone Three. He recognized the voice, it was Drone Three, the one who boded no good at all. "If you lie again I'll crank this open good and hard, and then I'll fuck you with it. Do you understand?" A light tug on the pear convinced Loki that he wouldn't survive even the most cursory attempts to make good on that threat. "_Do _you?"

"Yes. Yes."

"Will you tell the truth?"

"_Yes, _I swear. Please. Please don't."

"Why did you bring the frost-giants? Do. Not. Lie." Punctuated with tugs. Each one drew a yelp.

Loki tried hard to think. He couldn't. His mind was a blank. All he knew was that any second, any _second _they were going to kill him…

A loud _thump_ on the table by his head drew his attention. He focused his eyes. It was an hourglass.

Drone Two – formerly his favorite! – leaned down into his line of vision, and said: "You have one hour, Loki. Know the truth by then, and tell it to us. Or we'll wind that thing until it guts you."

The Drones left the room.

* * *

TBC.

Sorry for the cliffhanger! During the next chapter, Loki moves deep into bag-of-cats territory. For those of you who wanted to see him lose it… here it comes.

Again, thank you guys so much for your comments! I really enjoy seeing other people's perspectives.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: And here's what happens when a crazy sorcerer is pushed to the edge.**

* * *

Loki watched sand fall in the hourglass. He was breathing fast and hard, through his nose. He tried not to take deep breaths, because there was such pressure inside his body that even expanding his lungs hurt.

He wanted to die. He wanted out. He wanted _something,_ an end, and couldn't even put his mind together enough to know how to wish for one, or how to make it happen.

His instinct was to use his powers. Oddly though, when he reached for them, there was nothing there. He closed his eyes and tried harder. Still nothing. He tried to breathe, and _focus,_ and pull himself out of where he was and put himself somewhere else.

He felt an odd pull, a snapping, and suddenly he thought he might have succeeded. He opened his eyes…

… And realized he was standing, upright and uninjured, next to the table. He was in his full armor. Even his helmet.

The panting wreck on the table, though, was still there. Still bound and bleeding. Staring at him with wild eyes.

"Can you see me?" he asked, waving to it. He didn't think so.

On some level he knew that the wreck on the table _was _him_, _that he was going to be drawn back into that horror eventually, but for the moment it felt perfectly natural and perfectly real to prowl around the table in this glorious new form instead.

He wished he could just run off and leave himself, but he sensed that that would be a mistake. Probably death. Instead he walked around behind, distantly curious as to what the damage might look like up close. What did it _look _like, to be gutted?

The wreck was standing on its tiptoes, tense all over, muscles and tendons taut and straining. Loki squatted down between the spread legs to look closer. Some cane marks were still visible, dark red lines against white white skin. Others had faded, into mottled yellow-and-purple patches that would become blanket bruising in time. The places that had bled were scabbing, and he wondered whether they would heal without a mark.

Eventually he turned his attention to the real problem: the protruding metal handle of the pear. For a moment he felt only fascination; he remembered the impossible size of the thing when the Drone had shown it to him, and now the _whole entire_ device was hidden inside, swallowed up in his body – which was bleeding and open, like a wound.

He'd wondered about the blood, actually; while being beaten yesterday he had been acutely aware of every drop that oozed down his legs, but today he had felt very little blood, even though he _knew _the metal was cutting him up inside. Now he saw why: blood was moving down the key, dripping neatly off it, forming a puddle on the floor between his feet. He assessed the puddle critically, and the pace of the dripping, and decided that the cuts must be shallow – he had not yet been dealt a wound from which he could not recover.

Which meant, of course, that the Drones would be able – and willing, surely – to cut him further.

He remembered, vaguely and from far away, what it had felt like to scream for mercy and be refused. He would not want to put himself (any version of himself!) in that position again. "Don't worry, I'll figure this out," he murmured, and stood up. He meant to give a reassuring pat on the wreck's lower back, but as he did, a terrific pain shot through him and he had the disorienting impression, all of a sudden, that _he was _the corpse-to-be on that table, that someone had touched _his_ back, and that because he was all stretched and swollen inside the touch was unimaginable agony. He removed his hand.

(Again, for half a second there was a flash of what it _felt _like, half a second where the hourglass was before _his_ eyes and _he_ was the one lying there on that blood-and-sweat streaked table watching his time run out. Then, thankfully, the flash was gone.)

He moved away and stepped into the broken Loki's line of vision. "I want to help you," he said. The creature's lips moved, and he heard the voice in his mind: _I am you. This is you._

"Stop it. Don't be silly. Come on, let's think. Here – get rid of this thing." He went up to the hourglass and tried to push it over. The first time, his hand passed right through it. The second time, after a deep breath and a massive effort of the will, he knocked it down. "There. No pressure now. Let's think. What do we need to know?"

_Why did you let in the frost-giants_? Ah, yes, that was the question. Loki steepled his fingers under his chin and thought about it.

"I don't know," he said at last. "I was angry." He could remember the anger, all right, the petty prickly feeling that arose whenever Thor glowed over the plans for his ceremony. "I was envious. I didn't want Thor to have a nice day. I wanted to ruin it."

_You said that already. You said it, and it was a lie._

Loki frowned. "Well, then help me think," he snapped… but there was no answer, and judging by the wild, vacant stare there wasn't going to be one any time soon.

Out of frustration he concentrated and cast another copy of himself. For some reason that he didn't understand (didn't let himself understand), it was physically painful to do so and it also made the victim on the table give a short, rasping groan.

"Thanks," he murmured, and smiled at his shiny new twin. "Do _you _have any ideas? Did I really want to ruin Thor's day?"

"Of course not," his twin answered at once. "Can you imagine how distraught he would have been? You didn't want to _ruin_ the day, you wanted to…"

A voice spoke up from behind him. "To be part of it." Loki looked and tried not to feel surprised that _another _twin was standing there, smiling a lost and guileless smile. "I just wanted to be important."

Loki turned back to the double he had created, the one he _trusted._ (Not that one should ever trust the god of lies. But it would be doubly-stupid to trust an _unknown _version of the god of lies, wouldn't it.) "Do you think that's right?" he asked. "And, where did _he_ come from?"

"I don't know," his double said, "But you're killing _him._" He pointed to the table, where tortured wrecked-up Loki's breaths had gone shallow and jerky.

"I'm not," Loki protested.

"Yes, you are. Go back there, or we're all going to die!"

"Hurry," added the third one, the sweet one, from behind him. "There's two more over here and they don't look friendly."

Thatidea was so insane that Loki turned around, and saw that indeed his triplet had multiplied, into copies that were sinister and grinning. "You know, if you don't go back in there, we can _all_ die," one suggested.

The other laughed. "Let's. Thor would hate that."

"_I _would fucking hate that!" snarled his twin, his _real _twin, the one he'd created on purpose. "Pull yourself together!"

Loki tried to ask him how on earth he was supposed to do that, but then a different Loki threw a punch, and suddenly a number of them were brawling. "How?" he shouted into the chaos, but then realized that he didn't _need_ to ask; anything the twin knew he must also know, somewhere, himself.

He looked the victim over. Its eyes were rolling back. That didn't look good. It was still breathing, and sweat was still running down its spine...

He remembered, suddenly, what touching its back had done. _Yes. _Pain was the key.

Heh – the key. He ran over, took half a second to steel himself and mentally apologize to all the various Lokis that were going to hate him for this, and jerked on the handle of the pear.

Pain. His.

* * *

TBC.

Yikes. These last two chapters are probably be the goriest I've ever written. I'm so sorry.

Next chapter will be Thor/Loki h/c.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Sorry for the delay; I'm with family for the weekend and it's hard to get computer time.

* * *

"Father, they nearly killed him!"

"He nearly killed himself. He tried to conjure when he knew perfectly well he could not; the exertion was too much and he lapsed into a sleep. I have done as much myself, and I know where the blame lies."

"Loki didn't choose this."

"No. I did. For which I will make no apologies – I stripped him of his magic as best I could, but he very nearly managed to make magic anyway. Loki is very powerful, Thor, more powerful than anyone knew. If I did not take him in hand now, who knows whether-"

"Take him in hand? Like a disobedient puppy! You've done more than _take him in hand,_ Father, look at him. I hope you're satisfied."

"Enough. Do you think I enjoy seeing my son so sick and battered?"

"I think that if you didn't, you'd get that sorcerer back in here to finish what he started. Or better yet, you'd give Loki his own powers back so that he could heal himself."

"Loki was leeching magic from that sorcerer. Every bit of healing gave him more than just his health, it gave him power, and I'm not yet ready to have him returned to his strength. You must trust me, Thor. Your brother has a great deal of anger..."

"Ho, does he? I can't imagine why."

"...But I know he also has a great deal of love for you. I need to know which runs deeper before I can let him come home."

"Do you have to nearly kill him again to find that out? Why don't you just ask?"

"I intend to."

* * *

Loki awoke confused, to bright lights and cold metal. He was lying flat, trying to remember a half-heard conversation that might have been a dream. He stirred.

"Shh," someone soothed from far away. "Just rest. Relax. Don't speak."

When he thought about trying to speak, through the fog of his numbness came a deep, dull throbbing in his mouth. He mumbled.

Someone said: "We should wire that jaw shut now."

_No._ His words were all, all he had, and the horror of losing them galvanized Loki enough to actually move. Despite the heavy chemical stupor, he summoned up the strength to throw an arm up and strike out in the voice's general direction.

* * *

When he awoke a second time, his entire face was frozen in place. He wanted to shout, but his mouth would not open, and the effort it took to even open his eyes almost wore him out again. He began to struggle, meaning to reach up and see what gag or witchery was keeping him silent, but as soon as he started moving someone pounced on him and held him down.

"Hush, hush, brother, all is well." He recognized Thor.

How could all be well? Had they cut out his tongue? He couldn't feel it; his entire mouth felt thick, stuffed, immobile. _No_.

He made noises in his throat, panicky animal noises, and Thor began to stroke hair off his forehead as if he were a child. "Loki. Can you hear me? I know you must feel strange, but it's all right, these are healers. They have done you no harm, I swear it. I have not left your side."

Loki blinked rapidly and growled. _I want to talk_!

Thor looked oddly careworn. Weary. Well, perhaps he really _had _been keeping vigil. Loki knew better than most what a few sleepless nights would do to a person, even to a god.

"The healers said that you were frightened the last time you awoke, but I tell you now, there is nothing to cause you alarm. Do you understand?" Once Loki nodded, Thor turned and called over his shoulder: "My brother has his wits about him now. Come and explain what you have done."

Someone approached his bed, someone small and dull-looking and clad all in white.

"You had lacerations in your mouth," the healer began. "We closed a lot of them chemically; they weren't very large or very deep. Only one needed stitches, and you might feel the knots poking into your cheek when the feeling returns. Sorry about that. I know your impulse is going to be to worry it with your tongue, but try not to."

Thor patted his shoulder. "Did you follow that?"

Yes, that much he followed. He nodded, and made noises in his throat again. _Why can't I talk?_

"We also had to wire your jaw shut while it heals," came the voice again. "I know it's a terrible inconvenience, I'm sorry. And, lastly, the corners of your mouth were cut pretty badly, where it's visible, so I called in a plastic surgeon to make sure the stitches are done well. There are stitches in your top lip on the left, and in your bottom lip on both sides. It's important you leave them alone and don't pull on them, to minimize the chances of scarring. That's why you're all taped closed right now. You'll have to communicate through notes for a little bit."

Loki raised a hand and made a motion of writing in the air. At once the healer handed him and pad and scrambled to search for a pen. Loki grew impatient, as his question was important, so he magicked words onto the page with his fingers. **Other injuries? **His body was so numb he couldn't tell.

The healer stared. "How did you-...?" Loki rolled his eyes, summoned up every particle of power he could find, and quieted the questions in the healer's mind. He tapped on his message again, and the man nodded and began to explain. "There was some tearing, mostly minor, which we fixed with stitches. You're on painkillers. And that IV is saline."

Loki set aside his appreciation of the word _painkillers, _which he had never heard before, and tried to focus on translating the healer's words into concepts he understood. The tube called _ivy _seemed to be funneling a bag of liquid into him, which would have concerned him very much if Thor hadn't assured him that the healers were only helping. He wanted to ask questions, but on the other hand, he appreciated that his problems had not been spelled out in graphic detail in front of his brother. Thor seemed a little frustrated by that, but nevertheless drew the healer away gently and dismissed him with very gracious thanks. Then he told Loki: "Father had a sorcerer lay hands on you also."

A sorcerer. That explained why Loki had been able to pull at little pieces of magic still clinging to his body. It occurred to him that if he did not yet have his powers back, it likely meant that his punishment was not yet over. He sighed. It should not surprise him, that coming within an inch of death was not enough to win the Allfather's sympathy.

But it was certainly enough to win Thor's. After a moment of silence, Thor added, with a very poor attempt at composure: "Tearing? What have they done to you, brother?"

_We'll wind that thing until it guts you. _Which reminded him...

Loki shook his head. He gestured again for a pen, and Thor found one on a nearby table. **My guards**_, _he wrote. **Here?**

Thor nodded, looking troubled. "They wait outside," he admitted. "But they have not yet tried to take you."

Waiting outside. He'd been afraid of that. **You must take them a message, brother**_,_ he wrote. **A confession that I owe them**_._

"A confession?" Thor echoed, confused, but did not press. Loki was focused on his note, choosing his words carefully. _If you lie again..._

**I wanted to be necessary,**he wrote on a fresh sheet. **If there were a disaster and I helped with it, I would be hailed alongside my brother. It was a foolish daydream, a child's fantasy, nothing more.** He paused and reflected. Was that the _only _reason? The full truth? He did not want to accidentally lie by omission, so he closed his eyes and imagined the scene, how it would have played out in the best of all possible worlds.

He thought of the people screaming, running in a thousand directions, while he and Thor (mostly him, honestly) stood there strong and firm and composed, ready to deal with the problem. The people panicking all around him, such fun... Ah.

**Also, **he added, **I like chaos.**

He folded the confession up and nodded to Thor to take it outside.

* * *

Loki stayed in bed for days, and Thor did not leave his bedside. They played games, silly drawing games they remembered from childhood, and Thor read to him from odd books he had found in Midgard. Loki couldn't talk, but he soon learned how to approximate a laugh. They held hands, without mentioning it, and Loki felt almost as grateful for the silence as for the comfort. At night, again without a word, Thor crawled into bed with him and curled around him from behind. He kept an arm thrown over Loki all night – and in that hand he held Mjolnir. It would be physically impossible for harm to come to Loki while they slept.

Once or twice at night Loki found himself feeling strangely glad that he was incapable of speaking; it was so wonderful to lie in safety next to his brother that he would have felt compelled, if he were able, to open his mouth and spoil the moment with a barbed comment. As it was though, he could only snuggle back against the warm wall of Thor's muscle and hum what was meant to be _goodnight_.

In the daytime, though, it was frustrating not to be able to talk. He would have liked to repay Thor for his care by speaking the words Thor surely wanted to hear: _I'm sorry. You're my brother and I love you. I was just envious and wanted your place. I was so in awe of you that I just wanted to BE you. I lied to you to keep you out of Asgard and out of my way, but I grieved to have hurt you in the process. And I meant only to distract you with the Destroyer and keep you busy; I didn't realize what damage it would do; I'd forgotten how weak you were in mortal form. _

That last bit, actually, was true. Loki really did regret the casual slap that had sent Thor flying half a block with his ribs broken and his face slashed. He'd meant it as a provocation; he wanted to fight. But while Laufey had once managed to turn the prince combative just by calling him _princess, _the Destroyer couldn't talk and Loki had invented another way. As it turned out, though, mortals couldn't survive being hit in the face by the gigantic metal fist of a death-robot. Who knew?

But Loki didn't want to write any of this out for Thor on his pad; he wasn't entirely certain Thor would believe him and the prospect of Thor getting angry and walking out and leaving him to the mercy of the Drones was just too frightening. When he had his speech back he would be able to tell Thor whatever he wanted and make Thor believe it, but in the meantime, it seemed safest to remain quiet and docile and helpless as a kitten.

Thor had always liked kittens.

* * *

One morning Loki awoke feeling rested and reckless. He remembered the conversation he had overheard (dreamed?) and wondered if perhaps there was some power he could draw on to help himself somehow. There was magic _everywhere, _he knew. Even Thor had been taught to grab and use bits of it, as a child. And now it had been poured all over him by Father's sorcerer... There had to be some left.

He lay still, matching his breathing to his brother's, calming and collecting himself. Then, all at once, he vanished his mouth from around the hateful metal and reconstituted it, stronger.

There was still a soreness deep at the back of his head that told him the job he had done was imperfect. Still, it would do. He reached up to his face and carefully peeled away the pieces of tape that kept his lips closed, then opened his mouth and spat out the metal bits. Now he would be able to talk again.

As he tested his face muscles carefully, he noticed that the stitches inside his cheek were indeed annoying. So were the ones in his lips. He knew he did not have it in him to repeat the magic he had just performed, but still, he _did _think he could erase a couple of small cuts.

He nudged Thor awake. "I need a favor."

Thor blinked sleepily and then scrambled to sit up. "You speak!"

"A bit." Loki was doing his best to move his mouth as little as possible. "Still hurts. I want the stitches gone. You pick the threads out, I'll close the cuts."

"How?"

"I'm stronger than anybody knew, aren't I? Come – help me."

Thor hunted through cabinets until he found a pair of tiny scissors. Loki tried to rid himself of the suspicion that Thor's massive fingers would handle them clumsily, and sat under a light with his head tilted back.

Removing the stitches was harrowing and uncomfortable, but successful. Loki surged and his cuts closed at once.

Then there was a knock on the door, and Loki immediately realized what a stupid, stupid thing he had just done. Being unable to talk had protected him from interrogation for several days – several sweet, peaceful days. Now, though, he was physically able to answer questions... and he remembered that Odin himself had a few matters that he wanted to discuss.

The sight of the Drones made him feel ill. He pressed against his brother. "Help me."

* * *

TBC.

Next chapter Thor and Loki will finally talk.

Also: The mouth-sewn-shut concept freaked me out when I was a little kid reading Loki stories, and I'm delighted to have found a way of making it into a positive healing measure instead of (yet another) disgusting, creepy thing Odin allowed done to his child as punishment. (As I recall, though this could be wrong bc I read it a long time ago, it wasn't actually Odin doing the sewing, but in the illustration in my book he was just standing there looking all stern and formal.)


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Loki is kind of emotionally unstable this chapter. Can't say I blame him.**

* * *

In the old days, Thor would have chosen a side (seemingly, sometimes, at random) and enforced his will with his hammer. Now, though, he seemed to be trying to keep a level head, some sort of neutrality. He refused to either hand Loki over or defend him.

"Stop. Stop right there. Tell me what you intend to do," he ordered. "Let us solve this like civilized people."

Drone One spoke up. "We have been asked to prepare Prince Loki for interrogation again," he explained. "The Allfather would like to speak to him."

"Well, I mislike leaving my brother in your care after you injured him so badly," Thor said, eminently reasonable. "Perhaps we can call my father here and discuss it with him."

"Discuss? No!" Loki hissed. He was not quite willing to come out from behind Thor, but he spun him around by the shoulders and said up into his face, "If you're ever going to revert to being the rash, willful, and violent man I remember, this would be the time. I need you – I would not do this lightly, brother, but I _beg_ you to protect me. Their dungeons are cruelty beyond what you suspect."

Thor hefted Mjolnir and twirled it in his hand. "I could fight our way out of this place," he said. "Father would be displeased with me, but that's all right." He sighed. "But he will not allow you back to Asgard if you do not cooperate with his plans. You would lose your home forever. And I would lose you."

"You might well lose me anyway if they again-…" Loki broke off and rephrased himself. "Thor, they tortured me very nearly to _death_," he explained. "I don't think I can bear it again. I… I don't."

"If you refuse you'll be abandoned. Accursed – and mortal. You would not enjoy that life, brother. Please: _I_ beg _you_. Do whatever you have to do to make peace with Father. Surely it is better than death or exile?"

He was attempting to justify and convince. What happened to the empty-headed brawler who would attack anything in his path and treated _compromise _like a dirty word? Loki was close to despair.

"Please, brother," Thor pressed. "I do not ask it lightly either – it grieves me, pains me to know that you suffer. I wish I could help you. But I want-"

Earnest, caring, steady, _stupid_. The speech drove Loki mad, and he had to interrupt. "Oh, does it pain you? Does it really?" He didn't let Thor answer. "You don't know the _meaning _of the words you use! Grief? Pain? Suffering? _You don't know!_" he shouted. He was shaking with rage. Oh, he wanted to show. He wanted to _show _Thor, teach him firsthand, make him feel it, pain down to his _bones _until all he _was _was pain…

But he couldn't, could he. Because Thor was a god, and the favorite, and would never have to know the kind of misery he was speculating about.

Loki stopped shouting and tried to think through his rage. He remembered suddenly that he had nearly _died _down in the dungeons out of a powerful, perverse impulse to spite Thor. What a stupid urge.

He calmed himself enough to consider his options more carefully. With Thor's backing he could insist on exile... but then he would be mortal and helpless. Odin might eventually relent, or Thor once he became king, but what if Loki's life ran out in the meantime? That was a chance he could not take.

He had no other choices. Unless he wanted to die (which he did _not;_ after struggling so hard to survive he was damn well going to do it), he would have to accept the Allfather's nightmarish punishment.

But he wouldn't let Thor escape a few nightmares of his own. "Do you really want to help me?" he asked, evenly.

After all his shouting, Thor seemed surprised to hear him speak like a rational creature. "Of course."

"Then, stay with me. For all of it." He let his gaze fall to the floor, ran his hands up his arms. "It is hard, to endure a dungeon alone," he murmured. "I would fare better if I had my brother by my side. You cannot know the desolation… it is…"

"Say no more." Thor took him by the shoulders. "I will not leave you."

Loki felt his eyes growing wet, and was momentarily surprised that after all he had been through he could still produce tears so conveniently. "Thank you, brother." A tiny, perfect waver to his voice. A tremulous smile.

Thor was going to _hate _this. That was some satisfaction, at least.

He stepped up to the Drones, took a deep fortifying breath, and crossed his wrists.

* * *

Instead of binding him, they fitted him with a wide metal gauntlet that produced painful shocks. When he realized that the shocks would come at unpredictable intervals and varying intensity, he heaved a sigh. There went his ability to relax.

Thor stayed beside him as the cuff was put on, and accompanied him as he was led to a small outdoor courtyard. A Drone Loki didn't recognize held out its hand. "Your clothing, Prince Loki."

Loki rolled his eyes. "If you mean to humiliate me you're wasting your time," he said, as he undressed. "Thor and I have bathed together since childhood." At least they gave him a towel to sling around his hips.

There were lounge chairs. The princes sat down, reclining back, closing their eyes against the sun. Thor reached for his hand again and Loki gave it. A while later, though, the cuff buzzed and both of them yelped. Thor pulled his hand free and shook it out. "Ow_,_" he complained.

Loki immediately saw potential. Predicting the shocks was not possible, but they lasted long enough that if he moved as soon as one started, he would still be able to deliver a buzz. His mood lifted in ways it hadn't since the whole miserable ordeal started.

"I see you thinking," Thor warned, amused. "And I can guess what it is about."

Loki gave a syrupy smile. "Dear brother. A hug." He opened his arms, and Thor smacked him in the shoulder with a laugh.

The blow hurt clearly more than Thor meant it to. Loki winced and rubbed; mortal form was pitiful. "My apologies-," Thor began, but Loki waved him to silence. It was as good an opening as any.

"No – _my _apologies," he insisted, "For bashing you up as I did on Midgard. I thought only to delay you – it never occurred to me that there was a fight you could not win."

Thor was quiet a moment. But he was quick as ever to find his good mood. "So I'm to take that death-blow as a compliment?" he said with the beginnings of a smile.

"I'm afraid so."

He laughed. "I must say you're not very good at giving compliments."

As they smiled together Loki already felt much less glad about having dragged his brother into this horror. In fact, he rather hated himself for it. "I worry for the realm, brother, if its future king is so trusting as to take the word of a traitor and a lunatic, a monster, without question."

"Such hard words, brother. I do not think-" He broke off as Loki jerked. "That bracelet again? Come – take my hand. Surely it goes easier if we bear it together. There." Once settled, he continued: "I do not think you deserve them. At least I hope not – I hope you did not mean to betray the people who love you and the realm you were born to protect."

"That realm is not mine and with the exception of you and Mother there's nobody to whom I owe even a bit of love or loyalty." Loki shook his head. "I don't wish to discuss it, Thor. Traitor, lunatic, monster: I am all of that."

"I don't believe it. And even you, Loki of the silver tongue, cannot convince me. Save your breath. Rest that mouth of yours."

Loki tried to close his eyes and nap, but it was hard to rest with the possibility of a shock looming over him. Before too long he gave up, and rolled onto his side to face his brother head-on. "You are as stubborn as ever."

"Yes."

"But you _have _changed. You used to have no compassion at all," Loki mused. "Now you have so much compassion that even I cannot wear it out. I'm not sure that's an improvement." They winced as a shock sizzled through them. "Sorry," Loki added.

"It's not your doing." Thor clasped Loki's hand between both his own. "Now talk to me. Perhaps if you open your heart Father will be satisfied, and they won't hurt you again."

"I don't want to talk to you."

"Why?"

_Because I don't want you to know that I am the alien we were raised to scorn and fear. _ He settled on: "Because you'll like me even less than you do already."

Thor took a moment, clearly trying to puzzle out the best response. Finally he settled on: "Stop saying such things. All I ask is another chance – I swear I won't ever take you for granted again. Please, let us make peace. Talk."

It was getting warm, too warm, and Loki sat up to turn his back on the sun and shade his face. "I'm not your brother," he said after a bit. "How's that? Odin adopted me – stole me. We're not brothers. We're not even the same race."

Thor blinked. "I admit that is a strange thought," he said after a while. "I always considered us the same flesh and blood. A different race… hm. But in the end I think it does not matter overmuch." He hazarded a smile. "Is that why you named yourself monster?"

How could he fail to take this confession seriously? Loki's eyes narrowed. "I am of a monstrous race, an ugly, warlike race, a race that kills its own kin with no remorse." He, personally, had killed his own kin with no remorse, so that was true enough. "We could not be more different, you and I."

"You were raised with me. Like me," Thor argued. "We are at least part the same."

Loki didn't answer – more due to exhaustion than anything else. They sat without speaking, until a particularly savage shock made Thor growl. "That cuff is beginning to wear on my temper."

"Good – perhaps you'll get angry enough to destroy it." Or he might not, he might just scamper off and leave Loki to his ugly fate. For all his talk of brotherhood Thor was remarkably unconcerned about the impending torture.

Unconcerned about the impending torture, unconcerned that his brother was a monster, unconcerned that he ought to be mistrusting him. Unconcerned! Suddenly tired of being the only one under stress, Loki fished for a way to concern him. "I am Jotun," he declared suddenly. "That's why no frost-giant can hurt me with his touch – I am one. How about that? This _brother _of yours is one of the enemy."

Thor's smile faltered. "Are you joking with me?"

"Do you think that being a frost-giant is something to joke about?"

"I… that was the bitterest war Asgard has ever fought."

"Don't look at _me; _I didn't start it." Thor only stared. "I was a baby born during the war. The Allfather brought me home as some sort of trophy, I think." Loki could not remember the last time he just _talked_, with no plan or calculation, just opening his mouth and letting words come out.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

He should have guessed that would be Thor's first concern. In Thor's view, everything was about Thor in the end. Loki shrugged. "I just found out. You were already on Midgard. In Jotunheim I'd noticed that those _things _didn't hurt me the way they hurt the rest of you. I asked Father about it. He was kind enough to tell me the truth. Finally."

"Jotunheim," Thor echoed slowly. He swallowed. "Loki, those were your people we were killing."

"Don't call them my _people,"_ Loki snarled, "I have no people. I have no family, I have no throne, _I have no people_."

"Brother…"

The dam burst. "And don't call me brother! I have no brother – no family at all. I thought Odin was my father, I would have done _anything _for his respect – did you know I had a plan once to carve out _my _eye too, come home with some spectacular new sorcery for it that would make him finally stand up and take notice, only now I'm glad I didn't, because it wouldn't have helped, would it, because he could never be proud of me, never love me, because Odin was all I had for a father but he knew _I was never his son_! You're the only thing he _OH- o_w- e_nough_!" His ranting derailed by a shock, Loki clawed at the cuff in a rage – managing only to scratch himself and make it all worse. "Fucking thing, you _thing_, enough!"

"Loki. Loki!" Thor finally got out of his chair, and hauled Loki up to embrace him. "Don't do that – you'll hurt yourself. Please. Brother, I am so sorry-"

Loki fought and shrieked "_I AM NOT YOUR BROTHER!_" and "_I AM A FUCKING FROST-GIANT!" _until Thor squeezed him almost into unconsciousness.

When Loki finally reached the end of his ability to fight and scream, he was released. He touched his face gingerly, ears ringing in the sudden quiet. "I hurt," he said at last. "I think I need my jaw shut again." Thor looked miserable, so Loki dug deep and found the strength to make light. "For more reasons than one. I'm sorry I burdened you with that ugly truth – and even more sorry I shouted it into your ear so many times."

"Never apologize for sharing truth with me, brother." Then Thor frowned. "May I still-…? We were raised together," he pointed out. "We will always be brothers, to me."

What was he supposed to say to that? Loki shrugged. "As you will."

They sat back down, in silence that was, maybe for the first time ever, awkward. "Stop thinking about it," Loki snapped at last.

"Then what should I think about?"

"I don't know." Loki cast around for something else. "I hate it out here – the sun is too hot. I'm burning up. Can you make it storm?"

"But the weather is beautiful. The sun is-" Suddenly Thor jumped. "Loki. Sunburn."

"What?"

"Sunburn. Jane said something to me on Midgard, that I ought not walk too long beneath the sun, because those with fair skin and no powers can suffer burns by it. It is called _sunburn._"

Come to think of it, his skin _was _stinging unpleasantly. Loki looked down at himself, and noticed that he seemed a bit pinker than he was used to. "You might have recalled that fact a little earlier in the day," he growled, and beckoned with impatience. "Give me your cloak."

He wrapped himself in it, deftly sucking up the little bits of magic he could feel clinging, and sat on the ground in Thor's shadow. "I'm an idiot. I should have known about sunburn." Or at least thought to wonder what the Drones were doing locking him up outside all day with no clothes to cover him. He had been too distracted by Thor to think. Very dangerous, not thinking. Insane as he might be – and he fully acknowledged, now, that he was insane – his mind was still his best and only weapon.

After a bit Thor laughed down at him. "This may be the first time I have shared knowledge with _you,_ instead of vice versa." Loki didn't answer. He only waited until his gauntlet began to shock, and then grabbed hold of Thor's ankle.

* * *

TBC.

Yes, it's too late: Loki is fully baked. I'm sure that will improve his mood.

Next chapter will probably feature chatting with the Drones, and some comparatively minor loki-mashing. Unfortunately there may be a day's delay; tomorrow is ridiculously busy for me and I'm not likely to even get home before midnight.

Let me know what you think! Your comments make me squee so hard.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Sorry this took longer than I expected!

* * *

Loki spent the night in misery. There was no way to lie that did not hurt. His skin had become a deep vivid magenta, ugly and alien, and no amount of wishing himself back to normal was successful.

His whole body hurt to touch – even the sheets hurt. They hadn't bothered to bind him this time, but there was no way to be comfortable anyway. Movement was agony, he was burning up, but also, incredibly, freezing. The minutes crawled by and he could not stop shivering.

He tried the shower, but he couldn't bear the touch of the water; it was like needles on his skin. Eventually Thor thought to soak his cloak and let Loki wrap in it, and that was better, but still the fabric felt like sandpaper every time he so much as breathed. He tried to lie perfectly still.

"This is the way of it," he finally explained to Thor, snarling. "Make me pathetic and miserable so that I'm an easier target in the dungeons. Easy to break somebody who's already half broken, isn't it? You'll be amazed at how fast I fall apart tomorrow. I apologize in advance for failing to provide a good show."

If he was hoping to get Thor upset, he was disappointed. "Hush. Forget tomorrow, brother," Thor said firmly. "First you must bear tonight. Try to sleep. I will keep you wet and cool."

"Like a serpent."

"Serpents are dry, actually. The Midgard desert had serpents. They were-"

"_Shut up_."

"As you will."

"And stop being so _patient. _What's the matter with you?"

"Go to sleep, Loki."

Loki snarled again, but didn't argue. And eventually, nestled in his slimy cold (and _snakelike_, no matter what Thor said) cocoon, Loki dozed off.

* * *

By morning the pain had eased just enough to be manageable. They fed him, which he took for a good sign, but made him relinquish his cloak-cocoon and put on a robe instead. He scowled at the Drone who insisted – it was the new Drone again, the one Loki had undressed for in the courtyard. "Who are you?" he said finally, annoyed. "And what happened to-…" he changed his mind about _Drones One and Two_ and said: "the others?" _They, _he was sure, would have let him keep the cloak.

"Gone," said the new Drone.

Drone Three sighed from the doorway. "We've all lost rank for our failure with you, Loki. I'll prepare you for interrogations but I can't conduct them anymore, and your former prep team has been removed from your case entirely. You won't be seeing them again."

This was the longest speech he had ever heard from a Drone, and it was quite interesting. "Failure? I thought you all were quite effective." Loki made himself smile. Flattery would get you everywhere. "You got your confession, didn't you?"

The Drone was not amused. "We misjudged your strength – badly. We'd planned to continue for hours, but we found you unconscious and barely breathing. Of course words are pointless, but…" the Drone spread its hands. "Apologies. Deepest, profoundest apologies for the danger we put you in. I don't know how we miscalculated so far."

_I do – you're dealing with a magician, that's how._ But their caution could only help him, so Loki just shrugged and did his best to look grave, wise, aloof. "Perhaps next time I tell you _I can't, _you'll listen to me."

Drone Three shrugged. "It won't be my decision." He led Loki to the dungeons without talking any more. Once they were there, he gestured to a chair, _the _chair, the bolted one, with great courtesy. "Please, have a seat. Put your arms behind your back and clasp your hands."

"Do I have to?" Loki pouted.

The Drone pointed to the seat of the chair. "See that slot?" he said, without any anger. "There's an attachment that locks in there, a seven-inch metal spike. Right now, it's hanging on the wall."

"An excellent place for it to stay," Loki said smoothly, sitting down as requested. He reached behind him, wondering about the binding rod. "Are we playing drinking games again?"

"Shut your mouth."

Unbound, clothed, and with Thor in the room, Loki felt brave enough to disobey. "That's not very polite. And here we were having a nice conver-" He flinched when Three's hand approached his face, and ducked to hide against his shoulder.

But the Drone was only reaching for his chin, pressing it upwards to close Loki's teeth. "Stay like that – your jaw is still fragile. Face front."

Loki bit down just in time: Three hauled off and slapped him full across the face. The force of the blow turned his head. Once he faced front he was hit again.

Both cheeks burning now, Loki waited where he was, face pressed to shoulder, waiting for the pain to assimilate. He wanted _so badly _to bring his hands up and rub, but Thor would see that as weakness, so he didn't.

The Drone made an impatient noise. "Again, Loki. Face front. Don't be difficult."

Loki straightened out, wincing in advance of the blow. When it came it was the hardest yet; his lip split and bled. Without being told he just licked the blood up and faced front again. He heard Thor suck in his breath.

In order to take his mind off the pain Loki started counting. He had a headache at ten, was jerking and flinching by twenty, and – clenched teeth or not – by thirty his jaw ached steadily. At forty-two they stopped. Loki was breathing hard, dizzy, miserable.

Drone Three looked him over and nodded. The new Drone (Four?) took out the binding rod, and sealed Loki's arms and legs where they were. Then he went and fetched something terrifying: red-hot metal. Loki shrank back against the chair, praying that the glowing chunk was only a tool to scare him with… but they brought it to within a few inches of his chest and held it there.

It was nowhere near touching his skin, but the heat felt blistering against his sunburn and he began to thrash and wheeze. The Drone moved it around, slowly, and Loki felt a scream rising in his throat. He choked it down. He would not, _would not _shriek before anything terrible was even done to him.

At last the metal was taken away, but he hardly had time to sigh with relief, because immediately afterwards he was punched hard in the solar plexus.

Even winded and gasping, Loki heard his brother jump out of chair with a noise of protest. He meant to look at Thor and tell him it was all right, but he couldn't, because suddenly everything went dark as the Drones pulled a hood over his head.

It was silent for a while and he was not touched. He tried to quiet down his own terrified breathing so he could hear what was coming, but it was no good; his gasps and his heartbeat were still in his ear, and he was completely deaf and blind.

He tensed all over and turned his face aside, waiting.

He waited a while. Finally, just as he started to calm down, a finger trailed over his jaw. He yelped, tensing all over again.

"Face front."

Loki relaxed. As long as he knew what was coming it really wasn't so bad. He faced front and closed his eyes against the slap that was coming…

But instead, they smacked him in the back of the head and then hit him in the stomach. Once he could breathe again they grabbed his head to pull his chin from his chest, and _then _came the face slaps.

It was a while before Loki tried to relax again.

* * *

All morning. They tormented him all morning, hitting and burning and pinching, until he was covered in hurts and they were burning him on top of his bruises and pinching the sites of his burns. He still couldn't see and every new pain was a surprise, making him cry out and jerk against his bindings so hard his arms and legs ached. Sweat soaked his robe and stuck his hood to his face, stinging his eyes, tickling down his rib cage, pooling annoyingly at the small of his back. Every time he twisted and squirmed to relieve the tickling, he was painfully reminded that he had an ass full of stitches and it would be better to sit still. He couldn't sit still.

When they finally unhooded him he was a mess – disgusting, and in pain, and completely exhausted. He had never realized how fear could drain a person, but after a couple of hours of fear Loki was finished. The Drones unbound him and had to help him to his feet; he almost collapsed in their cool Drone arms.

Their grip hurt his burnt skin, though, and he pulled free. "Lunch?" he asked, trying for insolence.

"Almost," Three told him. "First, undress and get down on all fours."

Out of energy to disobey, he shrugged his robe off and collapsed to the ground almost gratefully. "No," Drone Four corrected. "Not your knees. Hands and feet."

Moving stung his skin unpleasantly when it stretched, but Loki slowly straightened his body until it was planked and only his hands and feet rested on the floor. Midgard warriors did this, he knew, to make themselves stronger. It was called _pushup. _Were they going to make him exercise?

A loud crash from just beside him made him jump, but Drone Three was grabbing him in an instant, steadying his hips so he didn't fall. Loki looked down and saw glass – the other Drone had just broken a bottle on the floor.

_Crash. _Another bottle. _Crash. _More glass. Loki looked all around in panic, as both Drones poured out handfuls of metal and glass, covering the floor with lethal-looking fragments. He could guess what those would do to this fragile little mortal skin. The idea of falling – or even moving his hands and feet to get more comfortable – was out of the question.

But his arms had already started shaking. "How long?" he bit out, watching sweat drip down from his hair to the floor.

Drone Three had sat down in the bolted chair, and picked up a book. "A while."

* * *

He was brought back to his room after they were done with him. A Drone wiped his cuts (he had finally given up and taken a knee, and he had glass in one palm also because his hand had slipped) with something stinging, and painted them with something that sealed them at once. Then Drone Three gestured for him to turn around.

"Clasp your hands," it said, "Palm to palm. Good. Now relax." Loki's shoulders were rolled back, gently but all the way. The binding rod cinched his elbows.

The pressure on his shoulders was uncomfortable, and if he unclasped his hands it only got worse. "So much for lunch," he muttered, eyeing the tray they had left him. His position was strenuous enough that his usual acrobatics would be impossible.

Then, from behind him: "Sit down; I will feed you." Ah. He'd forgotten that he now had a shadow. Torture did the strangest things to your mind.

"Thanks." He sat on his bed and watched Thor bring over his tray and cut up his food for him. Thor's face was strangely blank. "Thor? Are you all right?"

"Me?" Thor's eyes snapped to his. "It is troubling, to see what I saw. But I know that if such things are done in the name of the laws of Asgard I should not hide from them."

Loki devoured a few bites before answering. "What you saw was nothing."

"I know. But to see it happen to someone I care for…"

Loki swallowed once more, burped, glared. "What you saw was nothing, _and no one._ Have you forgotten everything I told you yesterday?"

Thor was visibly struggling to keep quiet. "Just eat, Loki," he said at last. "Let us not argue."

He ate, but after less than half the plate he sat back. "Enough. If I eat too much before the dungeons, I'll vomit again."

Thor still looked strange. Dull and weary. Loki would almost say _defeated, _except that Thor was never defeated. "You should rest," Thor suggested at last.

"How?" With his arms pulled so far behind him there was no way to lie comfortably. Not that he would have been comfortable anyway. "Did your woman tell you how long a sunburn lasts?" he finally thought to ask.

"No. Does it still pain you? You're still red."

Loki nodded. "I'm burning up. The temperature of everything I touch is… wrong." He snorted. "Maybe Odin lied; maybe I'm actually a fire-giant instead."

Thor didn't laugh with him. Instead his eyes widened. "Loki! They can frost themselves," he said, excited. "The Jotuns. They turn to ice. Can you not do that yourself?"

At first Loki meant to shake his head and remind his idiot brother that his powers had all been taken from him, but then, he realized that this was perhaps not a power Odin could take. To slip back into his own true form… his true, grotesque form. Surely he didn't need power for that?

He knew what the transformation felt like. And yes, as much as he hated it, he knew the cold would feel delicious today.

Thor was watching avidly. "No," Loki snapped. "I don't want you to see this. Go away." He ignored the pleading, and the pleading look, and only once Thor was safely standing in a corner did he close his eyes and concentrate.

He let the freeze come over him, icing over his pain, erasing it completely…

But the glorious numbness was interrupted by a stab of panic when he realized he wasn't breathing. Couldn't breathe.

His eyes opened. He was hurting for air but his lungs wouldn't expand; he was paralyzed with terror and wanted to cry out for Thor but couldn't even manage that.

Then there was a terrific _BANG_ and he realized his head had hit the floor. "_You've pushed yourself too far again, Loki,_" Odin's voice said from somewhere. "_You cannot shapeshift in this state. You must rest – you're going to make yourself mad._" "_I am not._" His own voice, that. Not his _real _voice; it was faraway and echoing.

"Loki? _Loki!_" _That _voice was real.

Thor was shaking him too hard, and he mumbled grouchily. "Mm. Did it work?"

"It… Open your eyes, brother. I saw blue but it's fading. You're cold to the touch now, and… well, look! The burn has vanished. I believe you did it."

Indeed he had. His cuts and bruises hardly mattered – he felt _wonderful. _Loki snickered. "Thank you, Laufey."

All at once Thor tensed. "Laufey?" he said. "What do you mean?"

Loki sighed. Thor already had half the story; what harm in giving him the rest? "I mean we have Laufey to thank for this mutt you name your brother," he explained. "I'm his son. Laufey, great chief monster of all the monsters, is my father. Was." His head hurt. He was ranting. He felt madder than ever.

But Thor sobered him right up again. "Loki…" he said, slowly, "Then you're the rightful king of Jotunheim."

* * *

TBC.

Ouches next chapter, but nothing unreadable. And lots of Thor.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:** While I seriously doubt there is anybody going around trying to act out the things in this story, just in case, I should warn: the restraint system described in this chapter is **NOT SAFE**; the neck-rope here is super duper dangerous and should not be used for actual bondage of actual people.

* * *

The king of the frost-giants did not require any further comfort from a slow and stubborn Asgardian prince. The king of the frost-giants nodded politely to the slaves that came to conduct him to his dungeons, because anger at such creatures was beneath him. The king of the frost-giants did not fear. The king of the frost-giants could not be dishonored by such a silly little inconvenience as a plain rope hogtie; even folded up on the ground with his arms cinched tight behind his back and tied to his ankles he was ten times grander than anybody he knew. When a rope was wound around his neck and secured to his feet, the king of the frost-giants only arched his back harder and breathed anyway.

The sound of a cane whistling through the air was familiar to the king of the frost-giants, but the idea that it might intimidate him was just laughable.

Then the stroke landed across the soles of his feet, and Loki woke up all at once. He kicked reflexively, which choked him, and for a while forgot about everything except trying to breathe.

Thrashing and struggling in panic, he discovered that if he arched his back harder he could slacken the rope. He stayed that way, head thrown back, staring up at the ceiling wheezing. The pressure of the squeeze on his throat made him want to cough, but he suspected coughing would hurt and forbid himself.

Drone Three chuckled. "Joining us, Loki? Where have you been?"

_Jotunheim. _"You tell me," he rasped. "I still don't even know what realm we're in." Talking made his crushed throat tickle, and he did cough then. He was right – it hurt.

After a bit the cane poked him in the back. "Relax or you'll tire. Arch only when you need to inhale."

Sound advice, but relaxing under these conditions was a challenge. Loki filled his lungs and then released the tension from his bowed back so that his chest sank to the floor. It would have been almost comfortable, except it was only a temporary solution because he couldn't draw in more than shallow snatches of air.

And, equally troubling, his bare feet were still pointing up at the ceiling, still throbbing, and still tied to his neck. _Do not kick, _he told himself. ((_The king of the frost-giants does not kick!_))

He frowned and tried to clear his head. Frost-giants could wait; right now he had bigger problems. Where was the cane? Whichever Drone had the weapon was the one he needed to pay attention to. He saw boots. "Ready now?" That was Drone Three again.

He heard a _swish-CRACK _and knew that Four was the culprit. Then the pain was too intense to do any more thinking.

He did manage not to kick. But the effort required to hold still was almost beyond him, and his muscles were aching and trembling when next he pulled himself up to breathe. He held the position only long enough to inhale once, and then sank down.

_Swish-CRACK_ again. He didn't kick… but the sting did drive a gasp from him, which made him cough and gag. He was still coughing when he was struck unexpectedly on the leg a moment later, and all shreds of discipline fled entirely. He kicked by accident, and fought and wheezed against the strangle.

"Control yourself, Loki," Drone Three ordered, with more than a little scorn. Some time passed and he did his best, but the muscles of his back were cramping and burning after all the work he had demanded of them and every breath was more difficult than the one before. The rope cut into his neck too, constant pressure, making it impossible to forget even for a moment that he was in danger.

As soon as he got a handle on himself, the caning started again. He kicked and choked, and when he tried to arch for air he got a jolt of pain in his back that told him he had hurt himself through overexertion. He hissed "I tore something!" but the Drones didn't stop. Instead, they hit him harder, with never a clue as to where or when next, all over his arms and legs and sides and feet. Eventually he was obliged to gasp "Please - a break? A moment, I -_ah_- I just need... Please!" They were aiming strokes precisely where he was welted already. His feet were punished especially viciously; they slashed over and over and over again so that he lost his head and degenerated into wild wordless bleating. They continued until he couldn't draw enough air to support the noises he was making. The world was going dark around him when they finally paused.

Loki lay still, trying to recover. They let him – and even loosened the rope at his neck for a time. His joints ached from all his yanking and his hands had gone numb. Ropes were digging in everywhere, chafing and pinching, and he missed the neat painless seal of the Drones' binding rod. Inescapable though it was.

As he caught his breath and recovered his ability to think, he realized that the rest was not a kindness on the Drones' part. Rather, they had gauged his endurance perfectly and knew he was at the end. Giving him a few moments to rest would let them keep going.

He shuddered in his ropes. They could draw this out almost indefinitely. They had planned to continue that atrocity with the pear for _hours, _Three had said. For all he knew he was going to have to bear this for days.

He tried to think of a plan. The other day, tied to a table and ripped open at both ends, he had escaped by magicking himself out of his own body. That was a dangerous solution, _but it had worked._ Wandering around in the ether had been a blessed reprieve from the pain, and, incidentally, had been quite enlightening. When he shed his body he apparently had access to unusual wisdom.

He really didn't see any downside to that. All he had to do was-

_Swish-CRACK._ "Sorry – did I catch you off guard?" Drone Three laughed while he yelped and jerked.

It hurt, but it was not terrible enough to make him pull away from his mortal form entirely. He doubted that any amount of beating would be.

So, he waited until the Drones re-tightened his neck rope, and then he kicked back with all his strength.

* * *

Strangling himself was far easier than Loki had expected. He had worried about having the will to follow through on the plan, but it turned out that when his body began to panic and overcame his will, its involuntary thrashing actually _helped_. He spasmed in all directions at once, locked so hard his torso lifted off the floor entirely, rocking on his hips, yanking at his neck rope even more powerfully. He saw stars within seconds.

The commotion around him said the Drones had immediately noticed what he was up to. Also, he could hear a deep familiar yelling in the background that he felt oddly sad about causing. But nobody was going to be able to stop him in time; another moment and he was relaxing warm and peaceful, fainting, and he closed his eyes and gathered himself up and _pulled_ to escape.

It was more uncomfortable than last time, a full-body tearing sensation, but he knew it was working. He could feel himself coalescing, unfurling, standing to-

Return. Noisy, violent, painful. The floor was hard and cool underneath him, Drone hands were gripping him and forcing him onto his side, the hot grind of ropeburn as his strangle was cut away.

He struggled, enraged at his failure and at his situation in general, but he stopped raging when strong arms rolled him to his back. "Loki? _Loki!_ Look at me, brother."

Ah, the source of the frantic yelling. Loki quieted and stopped fighting. He was running out of energy for it anyway.

"Cut him loose," Thor was demanding. "Cut him loose _right now, _I have to talk to him. Do it!"

The Drones shrugged at each other, and Four cut through the rope that ran elbows-to-ankles to keep Loki bent double. Once it was gone, he straightened out gratefully and just lay still, prepared to accept whatever lecture Thor decided to deliver about the stupid risk he had taken.

Instead of lecturing, though, Thor cupped his face in one giant hand, and dripped something onto his cheek that tasted like salt and for the love of all drink in Valhalla _Thor was crying_.

Loki twisted to look up. "It's fine, you idiot," he said, hoarse after the crushing his throat had taken. "I knew what I was doing."

"No." Thor's voice cracked. "I have told you already, brother: _you will not die_. It cannot, cannot be what you truly want. I will help you-"

"Oh, for- shut up. Die?" Loki started to laugh, which made him cough. But it was a reasonable mistake. "I wasn't killing myself. Honestly. I was only…" _Escaping _would sound ridiculous. "…I was trying some magic," he admitted. "I thought I could do it in great extremes. That's all I was trying to do, was push myself. I was not trying to die." Thor had wiped his face, but still looked far too shaken, so Loki added: "You won't be rid of me that easily."

Teasing helped – Thor managed a watery smile. "You frightened me," he admitted. "I don't… I don't know your mind, Loki."

That had never seemed to trouble him before, had it. But Loki found his concern – belated as it was – a welcome change from his boundless selfishness and far too sweet to mock. "Neither do I on some occasions. But today, I promise you, I have no intention of dying." He gave his best cocky smile. "Trussed up like a pig is no way for the king of the frost-giants to go."

That won a laugh, but then Thor sat back on his heels with his eyes narrowed. "You _frightened _me. Do not try that again, brother. No magic is worth risking your life for."

Loki personally disagreed with that, but regardless, when the Drones came and ushered Thor away and re-tied their prisoner, he did not strangle himself again.

He fucking hoped Thor appreciated it. It was a miserable afternoon.

* * *

TBC.

I'm really sorry about the delay and the shortness. The explanation for both of those things is that pretty soon in the story Loki and Odin finally talk… and they have a lot to say to one another. (Don't worry, I am not an optimist and I don't believe that Family Trumps All and reconciliation is always possible.) So I've been writing that scene, rather than finding the time for this one. Next chapter is going to be short again – it was originally going to be part of this one, but I didn't want to delay posting any longer! – and then, a chapter of Odin and gruesome and Loki off the deep end.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: This one got long, wow. Yeesh. **

* * *

It was a point of pride with Loki to walk back to his room without help. He limped badly, stumbled several times, hissed and gasped and groaned. But he made it.

Having Thor trail after him begging "Brother _please, _let me help you," with more and more urgency made him feel quite a bit better.

"No," he declared once. "I don't _need _your help," another. "_Enough, _Thor," he snapped at last, "I've grown used to it."

His steps left faint bloody smudges, but the robe they'd given him covered up most of his other hurts. When he reached his room he grinned at himself in the mirror. Let Thor whine and cry. He was fine.

* * *

All silly pride aside, though, it really was nice to have help getting ready for bed. Thor got a handle on himself somehow while Loki ate and showered, and afterwards he was quite calm and steady at spreading salve over welts and massaging out sore joints. It helped. The deep ache in Loki's knees would not go away, but his shoulders felt worlds better after a rub. And his back muscles, which had lit up with sharp bolts of pain at every step, were reduced to jelly under Thor's powerful hands. He groaned, with pleasure for a change, and thought he might never move from the bed again.

"Legs too?" Thor guessed.

"Yes please." It finally occurred to him to ask: "I hadn't heard that you give massages. Which surprises me – I think I've… spoken to almost all of your girlfriends."

"Spoken to." There was amusement in Thor's voice. "I think those were not girlfriends, brother. They were…"

"Conquests," Loki finished for him, a little bitterly. A few of those _conquests _had been his friends before Thor got to them. And a few had only _pretended _to be his friends, until they achieved what they _really _wanted, which was the attention of his glorious brother. And afterwards, once Thor was bored, Loki had provided a shoulder for everybody to cry on… and more often than not got a lay for his troubles. A sad and weepy lay, an angry and vengeful lay, a sordid and self-hating lay. All of them leaving a rather pathetic aftertaste.

Thor was quiet a moment. "I am not proud," he said at last. "I was… not kind to those women."

"You were not kind to anybody." He'd shot it off from reflex more than anything else, but as soon as he said it he knew it was true. It sounded terrible, though. He moved to soften it. "But you were _honest_ in your arrogance, at least." All right, that hadn't softened it much. Perhaps he was angrier than he realized. (_Know your place, brother._ Thor's words still stung. It was the first time he had said it aloud, but Loki had felt it coming for years.)

Thor didn't defend himself – or apologize again, which would have been just as annoying. Thor _always_ apologizing was almost as bad as Thor _never_ apologizing. They would have to have a talk about that sometime, about finding a happy medium.

"How is this?" Thor asked eventually. "Too hard?"

Loki blinked, surprised. He had grown so used to being hurt and manhandled lately that it had not even occurred to him to complain. "Yes, actually it is. Ease up a little."

"Of course. Tell me where else I can help."

"Mm." Loki rolled onto his back and took stock of himself. He ached _everywhere_. "Hip. Ass. Something," he said at last, sliding a hand beneath himself. "It hurt to walk. Here."

He realized afterwards that the spot he had indicated was not a spot one asked a brother to rub… but it didn't matter. Thor nodded and took hold of his leg. "Tell me when to stop," he said. He brought the knee up, and then sideways, stretching out the exact site of the pain.

"Careful – slow." Loki breathed deep and tried not to fight the position. Thor watched him, and pushed a bit further exactly when he could take it. "You're good at this."

"Yes." Thor's nose was in the air. "This may have escaped the notice of someone who diligently avoids the practice field, but yes: I do care for my brothers-in-arms when they're injured." He pushed further again, leaning, and now his face was just a foot or two above Loki's.

So Loki flashed him a smile and rolled his hips. "Especially Sif?"

"Oh, that's very funny."

"You must _pray_ that Volstagg never pulls a groin muscle."

"And you wonder why they're mean to you," Thor said, but he was smiling too. He released the stretch slowly. "Other side."

Loki almost asked about them – about how they were, about whether they worried. He missed them. Volstagg had been the one who got him his first girl. Fandral had cleaned him up the first time he ever got puking sick with drink.

And Sif… well. Moments he had shared with Sif were maybe not so sweet, but they were… memorable at least.

He missed them. All of them. He missed-…

He had made them kneel.

The memory twisted his guts now, physically sickened him. Suddenly he didn't want to think about his friends anymore.

"Enough," he said, squirming. "Don't touch me. Let go." Thor obeyed, looking puzzled and even concerned, and Loki had a sudden overwhelming urge to snarl cruel and terrible things at him. He could. He could hurt Thor badly; savage him with words until he- "Sorry," he said loudly, over his own thoughts. Making Thor miserable would not help anything. And was not fair. "I just… don't want to be touched right now. It isn't you. You've been perfect. Thank you."

"Uh. You're welcome."

They stayed like that a moment, staring at each other, odd and formal and awkward.

Then the door opened and Drones filed in.

* * *

They weren't supposed to come in at night! Loki held his breath. But the Drones weren't looking at him.

"Prince Thor," Four said. "Please come with us."

Thor cocked his head. Gripped his hammer. "Me?" He sounded almost amused.

"Your brother requires solitude tonight," the Drone explained, "To reflect. Tomorrow will be very difficult for him."

Thor shook his head. "He can reflect with me here."

The Drones didn't answer. They just stood, watching, and tension mounted. Then there was movement: Drone Three was reaching into a satchel. Something in there _clanked._

The threat – whatever it was – was effective; Loki cracked immediately. "All right – all right." he said quickly. "Thor, go on. I'll be fine."

"Loki…"

It wasn't as though Thor was going to _stop _them. They were going to do whatever they were going to do, and in that case, it was better not to antagonize them. "Honestly. It's… better. It's fine." Drone Three was nodding at him, so he turned to Thor and gave his best, more reassuring smile. "Go on. I'll see you in the morning."

Thor still hesitated.

_"Go."_

At last Thor stood up. "Very well. But hear me well, brother: tomorrow will be the last. I have been patient with Father's commands, very patient, but I have now seen all I am prepared to see. He may ask you his questions, whatever they are, the questions that upset him so badly… but after that, we are going home. I give you my word I will not leave you in this terrible place any longer. Even if I have to challenge Father for his crown."

Loki did his best to smile as if he believed. "Thank you, brother."

"Sleep well."

* * *

Once Thor was gone, Drone Three came and held out the binding rod. "Turn around."

Loki sighed and did as he was told. "No suspense, please," he said. "What's for tonight?"

"You'll know soon enough. Come this way."

The corridors were not lit at night, and Loki didn't much like walking bound. He stuck close to the Drone who carried a torch, struggling to keep up despite limping and stumbling and hesitating in the dark. "Where are we going?" he said.

A door opened. Not the door to the dungeons. This one opened to a rush of cool air, and an odd dripping sound. A… cave? Inside the building?

"Down, Loki. Don't fall." Drone Three put a hand on his back to balance him. "A broken leg won't help you any."

"I-… is this really necessary? Don't you have lights?" He groped down the first step with his toes, gritting his teeth at the roughness of the stone. "And why are you stairs so-…?"

The Drone stepped down easily, boots grinding. "We don't like them slippery. People fall."

Of course that was why. For his own safety. "Fuck you all." Loki leaned on the wall and went down another step.

"Swear all you like, if it helps. You can have shoes when you get to the bottom."

Once he had made his slow miserable way down the full staircase (a terribly long twenty-one steps) they did indeed give him shoes. In a manner of speaking. They were enormous soft furry things, ridiculous-looking, with ears and faces on them and Loki could swear that in better light they would be pink. He turned to the Drones to arch an eyebrow, but they just shrugged.

They unbound him, and he put the furry things on. He blinked as his eyes adjusted, and discovered: "There's no bed."

"You'll sleep here." Drone Four tugged him over to what was basically a slab of rock – and not even a smooth slab. On the floor in its shadow, Loki saw a glint that might be chains. "Lie down."

"Thanks, but I think I'd rather- _AH!_"

One of the Drones had shocked him, with some ominous-looking buzzing tool. He rubbed his elbow and backed towards the slab. "All right, all _right_, but just tell me what you're going to do. You're not going to tie me up and torture me all night, are you? I need to rest, you said it yourself, I need to-"

"Quiet," Four said shortly, picking up what was indeed a pair of shackles. "Feet go here."

Loki lay where he was bid, feeling worse and worse about tonight's prospects. Once he was stretched out he realized that the stone slab wasn't entirely flat; it actually curved just a bit, arching him backwards. Just a bit, just enough to make him feel extra-vulnerable when they chained him there in a spread eagle.

His eyes by now had adjusted enough to tell the Drones apart by their features. He found Drone Three's eyes (Drone Three was nasty, but at least he wasn't cold) and asked, again: "What are you going to do?"

A shrug. "We're going to leave you." Was it his imagination, or did the Drone's eyes flicker up to the ceiling for just a moment? Loki looked, but there was nothing there. Just the natural stone ceiling of a cave. Wet and cool.

He shivered, glad of his robe now and also glad of the ridiculous furry shoes. "Well… goodnight then."

"Goodnight, Loki." They went to the stairs, up the stairs, and shut the door behind them. It clicked.

* * *

Once the Drones were gone, Loki really did spend a few minutes reflecting. But eventually his reflections were disturbed, by a noise from the ceiling above: a hiss.

Loki looked up, squinting into the uneven grey rock of the ceiling… and caught a flash of dark dark red.

There it was again – just a flash. A flicker. Almost like something's-… "Serpent!" he gasped, doing his best to recoil even though he was bound and spread-eagled and far too weak to struggle.

The serpent's head appeared, a vivid green, enormous, winding its way out of a crevice to dangle over him. The tongue tasted the air. The eyes locked on his and then, horror of horrors, the mouth yawned open.

Loki whimpered through grit teeth, squinted his eyes but didn't dare close them, tried to hold his breath in the hopes that somehow if he just held still, played dead, it would go _away _instead of biting him with those huge poisonous fangs.

He could actually _see _drops of venom collecting at their tips. He watched, mesmerized…

Until they dripped, onto his chest, hissing as they made contact with his robe.

They burnt through the cloth like a coal through paper. He craned his neck and saw smoldering, and a second later the burn was on his skin and he shouted in pain and surprise.

_Poison. Acid. Something bad._ He glanced up to the snake with new fear, saw that it had not moved from its spot. Nor had it closed its mouth. And two more drops were already beginning to form up on those terrible teeth.

"No!" Loki shouted up at it. "Boo! Go! Get away!" He rattled at his chains frantically, to scare it, but the snake only tensed for a moment, and then ignored him. The drops fell.

* * *

Loki was graying in and out. There was a coppery smell in the air. That was coming from his wrists, which he had rubbed to bleeding against his shackles. He knew the chains would not break, but he couldn't help himself – the poison had eaten away his robe and his skin, and every drop fell into a raw open wound, burning deeper and deeper.

He had first imagined it was meant to eat him away entirely, destroying all evidence of Odin's failed attempt at a foster-son, but then he realized that the snake was _moving, _shifting a few inches from where it had been, burning away fresh skin a little further up on his body. Slow, methodical. This was no dumb animal; it was clearly an enchanted creature, obeying somebody's instructions. And it either had instructions not to kill him… or instructions to kill him as slowly and agonizingly as possible.

Knowing the Allfather, it was more likely the former. He would be burned and tortured and left alive. But would he ever heal? And what happened when the snake reached his _face_? His _eyes_?

He had stayed quiet despite the physical agony at first, but the horror of that thought had him screaming. Odin was going to blind him.

He thrashed until his enfeebled body gave out on him, his muscles limp and useless, joints pulsing with hot pain. He screamed himself hoarse and kept going, screamed until he tasted blood and kept going, screamed until it hurt to draw a full breath.

When he had screamed himself to complete exhaustion, he had no choice but to stop panicking. He lay still, and at last realized that the snake had not drooled on him for several minutes. Perhaps his screaming was putting it off its appetite.

Just when he noticed that and felt glad, the creature flickered its tongue at him, shifted a little further down his abdomen (_now _where was it going to aim for?), and opened its mouth again.

The drops began to come fewer and farther between. Loki would have almost time enough to fall asleep (faint?), and then, just as he was slipping off into a dream, pain would surprise him. His mind did not appreciate the disruption; the dreams began to spill over into his waking nightmare, until he heard voices, mostly Laufey's for some reason, whispering and muttering and disapproving of him as he writhed and whimpered.

He did ask Laufey what he was doing here, but the only response he got was low mocking laughter, and then poison dripped over his belly and Laufey was gone. He thought perhaps Laufey wanted an apology, or perhaps that he meant to give one, for handing a baby over to the enemy who had just butchered his people. Or perhaps Laufey didn't care about any of that, and only wanted to discuss the wasteland that had become of the kingdom. They needed that casket back, they really did. It was so blue. Loki liked the way it felt in his hands. Perhaps Father would let him keep it; it _was _his by rights after all. His belly hurt. He needed to sleep.

Drifting in a half-awake stupor was the best he could do. He must have dozed a _little,_ though, because when a click and creak and shard of light told him that the cave door was being opened, it jarred him fully awake and hurt his eyes; they had been closed.

"King Laufey?" he tried to say, but his voice was odd and hoarse and thick. He supposed that was what came of screaming half the night and muttering senselessly the other half. Now he really _did _sound like a frost-giant. Like father, like son. He laughed.

"_Loki!_" A loud sound, a stomping, and then there was somebody standing over him. Loki blinked up, expecting blue and seeing blond instead.

"Thor?"

Thor was staring in horror. "Your chest…"

He tried to clear his head. "Why thank you, I hadn't noticed."

"I couldn't sleep. I came to check on you. Loki… brother, what have they _done_?"

Loki saw the glint of fangs above him, and pressed his lips together to stay quiet. Thor saw him tense though, and followed his gaze up and realized where the injury was coming from. He stared.

Loki blinked sweat out of his eyes and tried to swallow to soothe his throat. "Can you break the chains?"

"What?" Thor said dully.

"_Look _at me, Thor!" Loki glared into his eyes. "Focus. Where is your hammer?"

Thor shook his head, clearing away some of the stupefied look. "I used it to hold a door closed in the hallway above, so that nobody could come disturb us. I thought-… No!" He lunged forward as the venom dripped again, blocking with his hand, eyes wide as he watched it burn through his gauntlet. The pain drove a grunt from him and he looked down at Loki again. "I can't leave you like this."

"I certainly wasn't asking you to." Loki looked his brother over quickly. "Have you got anything on you that could-" He tensed and squeezed his eyes shut as new drops fell, but opened them in surprise when there was no burn. "Thank you," he said, and Thor accepted with a terse nod. "But you'll soon grow bored of taking my punishment for me. We need a more permanent solution. Have you got _anything _on you that could contain the poison?"

"No. Nothing stronger than my armor – and that doesn't work." Another burn came, and Thor's eyes flashed. He leaped onto Loki's rock, jumped and snatched the snake behind the head, and broke its neck.

Instantly it went limp, and Thor yanked it out and flung it on the floor. "There." His grin was huge. "I believe the problem is solved."

Amazed and delighted that it had been so easy, Loki found himself smiling back.

Until a soft hiss from above drew their attention. Another serpent was descending from the hole – this one bigger and, as Loki discovered a moment later, even more dangerous. The corrosive power of the venom made his eyes roll back in his head.

"Loki!" Thor jumped up on the stone slab, crouching over Loki, shielding him with his own body. "All right, that didn't work. I can stand and slay serpents one after the other if you like, but…"

"But they'll only come back, and bigger. Goodness knows what the tenth one will look like. No. We have to think of something else."

"Then I'll just stay here. Look: it's already healed." Thor held up his arm to show, then grunted and tensed hard as venom fell on his back.

Loki winced too. "Sorry – I'm sorry, I know it hurts. You don't have to…"

"Be quiet." Thor spoke with both firmness and calm, for him an unusual combination. "I will stay here. Rest."

"You're getting better at the _commanding _thing, brother," he mumbled. He fell asleep within moments, and this time Laufey did not come to bother him in his dreams.

* * *

TBC.

Thanks for your patience everybody! Hope you're enjoying (horrified?). Next chapter is torture warning.


	12. Chapter 12

A gentle tapping on his face finally pulled Loki from sleep. "They come, brother." Thor murmured. Then he laughed. "Or at least, they try."

Loki frowned and tried to put his thoughts in order. He shifted and couldn't shift far; he was chained. To a rock. Thor was straddling him, his usual good humor gone. The handsome face was tight and haggard-looking.

Thor's breath caught and he squirmed, and Loki remembered. Venom, dripping down onto him for who knew how long… no wonder Thor was in a bad mood.

"How are you?" he asked, and then replayed his brother's words in his mind. "And… what do you mean, _they try_?"

"I mean I used Mjolnir to bar the doors upstairs. And by all the pounding and shouting I hear, it seems nobody has yet discovered a way of moving it."

"Ah." Loki shared a sharp smile with him – Thor was so rarely reduced to the level of impotent spitefulness, and it suited him beautifully. Still, he was in pain. "I don't suppose you want to stay here forever," he sighed. "Go on, then – let them in. And, Thor…" _Thank you_ seemed so inadequate. Thor waited for him, but in the end he just shook his head. "You'll have to forgive me; the right words escape me at the moment but I'm sure I'll come up with them eventually. In the meantime… just know that I'm very glad you count yourself my brother." Thor's eyes were shining, and before he could get any more emotional Loki made a face to break the moment. "Go let them in, will you?"

Thor nodded, but once he'd climbed down off the rock he hesitated, arm still outstretched to catch the poison. "I don't want to leave you here unprotected."

"Well, we've already established that there's nothing here that can serve as protection. The serpent's venom eats through everything it-…" He broke off, as an idea struck suddenly. Then he hated himself – this should have occurred to him _hours _ago; pain and exhaustion really had made him stupid. "The skull," he said. "Thor. Rip the skull out of the dead snake and bring it over here. We can use it as a dish, it can't possibly burn through its own skull."

"Well done, brother!" Thor gave him a wide grin, then clenched his fist. "But when I move…"

He braced up. "Yes. I'm fine."

Thor darted away and returned in seconds, the dead serpent flopping in his hands. He stood ripping it up, foul thick blood clinging to his gauntlets, jumping to catch Loki's punishment for him whenever it would fall. (Although sometimes, intent on his task, he forgot. When that happened Loki felt some of the old impatience rising up, but he reminded himself that Thor was being more generous than he had any right to expect, and was doing a fairly good job overall, and he swallowed down any sharp _pay attention!_'s that rose to his lips.)

Eventually Thor had the skull free – a small thing, likely not able to protect Loki long. "Are you sure you want me to go?"

"Instead of staying here to burn yourself to death with no idea how to free me? Of course I'm sure." Loki winced when the gory little dish was rested on his chest, amidst the raw sticky remains of his skin.

"How is that?" Thor watched to see that it was positioned correctly. It caught the snake's poison, and did not dissolve. "Perfect!" He reached up to Loki's bound hands and gave one a squeeze. "I'll go tell them you are ready. Father should be here by now. We will endure this one last thing, whatever it is, and this night you will sleep in Asgard, in my chambers, where none will dare even think to harm you."

_We. _Loki kept his mouth shut and just nodded. He watched Thor leave, noted that the clothes and armor had been burnt from Thor's back in big patches… and also noted that only a few ugly little sores were still open. The rest had healed already. In another hour he would look flawless as ever, no sign of injury at all. No wonder his approach to this horror was so cavalier. "Empathy is still not your strong suit, brother," Loki muttered under his breath, once Thor was safely up the stairs and out of earshot. He tried to relax back against the stone and wait.

He could vaguely hear commotion, and raised voices. He concentrated so hard on not moving that his mind began behaving erratically again; he had the strange idea that he wasn't chained at all, that he was just laying still because he felt like it, and in fact, if he was laying still on his own, then the chains had no business being there in the first place and would certainly vanish. He was _sure_ they were gone. But he didn't pull on them, because if he did then they might be there again.

He almost wondered what was taking Thor so long, until instead he wondered what had possessed him to think Thor had ever been there in the first place. (But where did that skull come from?) At least he was still sane enough to remember that he had to control his breathing though; the dish was positioned on his chest so precariously that if he breathed too fast or hard it might tip over. If that happened, Loki was fully confident that the poison bath would kill him.

He lay still, eyes open though not really seeing much, and before long people were tramping down the steps. "Rise and shine, your highness," Drone Three called as he came over with keys. "Papa's here."

* * *

Loki was amazed at how much it hurt to stand up. For once the Drones didn't offer to carry him and he was glad; this time he would have accepted. Instead, they offered him clothes – real clothes. He put on the plain sandals they brought him, dressed in tunic and trousers that were his own, from his own room (at home) his own room _in Asgard_. An inability to pull his own shirt over his head without pain – a movement he had made every day since childhood – drove home his condition like nothing else would have. He was completely physically wrecked. His fingers felt slow and stupid as he laced up his pants; he didn't even bother to lace the shirt because his shoulders throbbed when he brought his hands to his chest. Where his skin was gone his shirt stuck to him, and he did his best not to pull at it; the rasp of fabric over open wounds was unbearable.

It was worse when he was ready to go – walking hurt every part of his body, from his bruised-up feet to his dizzy head to his back that ached like an old man's. He took a bizarre sort of comfort from the terrible state he was in; at least this couldn't last long. Whatever they planned to do to him today would surely be beyond his endurance after just a few minutes.

"Don't fall," Drone Three said on the stairs. Right on cue his knee buckled, but he braced against the wall and caught himself quickly.

"Your concern is appreciated. Might I ask what is…?"

"Ask away. But I don't know."

"Surely you can make an educated guess," Loki suggested, silky. "Based on your experience." Treat any idiot like an expert and he will tell everything he knows. Sure enough, the Drone started talking.

"I can tell you it will be something extreme," he said. "Maybe the rack, a cross, rats. But you respond better to immediate escalation than to pressure over time, so, maybe a generator, wired somewhere sensitive. That would be my choice, if I were choosing."

_Generator _was a mystery, but Loki got the idea. And was heartily sorry he had asked.

Not that it mattered: when they reached the dungeons, the first command out of the Drone-in-charge's mouth was for Loki to be walked all around the room and introduced to the more spectacular pieces of torture equipment he had thus far avoided.

There were machines designed to pull joints apart and machines designed to crush bones together. There were setups to impale a prisoner to death on, and others that would impale a prisoner until he only _wished _for death. There were metal garments with spikes inside, and metal garments attached to a small stove, and metal garments wired to a device the Drone called _battery, _which appeared to bear safety instructions. Loki found that a little hilarious, but the new Drone-in-charge (Drone Six? Seven? A thousand? Loki had now lost count, and named him Big Drone instead) scooped up a device from a tray of pears and metal rings and other dreadfuls, and put a stop to the inappropriate giggling with it. "Spider gag," he offered helpfully, as Loki made noises. He held up a mirror. "See?"

His mouth was held open around an uncomfortable metal frame, bracketed by parts that did look a bit like spider legs. It dug in to his face and set his jaw to aching, and it also made him drool, which made him feel ridiculous which he supposed was the point. He sighed. _Point taken._ He didn't laugh any more.

They walked him past flaying knives and branding irons, past whips and canes and scourges with barbs, past metallic sticks that pulsed with an unhealthy green glow, past vats of liquid, some small enough to force into him and other large enough to force him into. He noted that almost all of the equipment seemed to have come from Midgard, which would certainly be something to tease Thor about the next time he had a chance. You didn't see _his _people exercising their ingenuity in this way. For all he knew, there was no torture on Jotunheim at all. He'd have to ask someone that, someday. (It was better than allowing himself to think of these terrible articles, what they would feel like, what they could do.)

At last they stopped him before the dais he had been avoiding with his eyes the entire time. "Allfather," Big Drone said politely. "Allow us to present your son."

"Is he ready?"

"We think so."

Loki didn't raise his eyes from the floor. He was _sick_, positively sick at the sound of that voice, so cool and distant, right _there, _passing judgment on him like any common criminal. He waited for a rush of anger, but it didn't come. Instead he felt… ashamed. And _then _he was angry all right, but at himself. That he should still chase after Odin's regard after everything…

"Brother." Thor interrupted as they were dragging him away, and he finally looked up. Thrones - they were seated on thrones, harsh-looking old metal ones.

"Hng?" He said, through the gag.

"I have spoken to Father," Thor said loudly, "And he has agreed that I may take you home today. Be strong until then."

Loki gave him a nod, because he deserved it, but he wasn't feeling all that hopeful when the Drones finally ushered him over to a piece of equipment he had been rather hoping not to experience.

The rack. The thing that tore mortal limbs from their sockets, the machine that broke a prisoner slowly, inch by inch, destroying his body until he could feel the pieces come apart. He hated the mere _idea._

Let alone the reality. It hurt like he hadn't dreamed when they bound his hands at one end and his feet at the other. He was so sore, so stiff everywhere, that even lying fully extended made sweat bead on his forehead.

He wanted to grit his teeth and couldn't even do that; damn the gag. It would come out before long, though, or else how did they plan to ask him questions?

"Draw it tight," Big Drone said, and Loki watched the other Drones move to a big lever. He was expecting a dull cranking noise, as befitted a wood-and-iron behemoth like this one… but instead, a Drone pressed at a button Loki couldn't see, and the rack drew smoothly apart.

He had to roll his eyes. All the rust was just for appearances' sake, then. The old blood was probably fake too.

He squirmed, trying not to mind as the rack was pulled taut. He wiggled his hands and feet until the shackles sat more comfortably; he tried to enjoy the stretch on joints that had been compressed and confined too long in recent days. Finally he was opened to his full length, as far as his body wanted to go, and just then the rack stopped moving.

Big Drone came and stood over him. "I assume you understand this machine, prince. Slow dismemberment unless you answer your questions."

Loki nodded. "How do you expect me to answer with a metal frame in my mouth," he said calmly, without making any effort to enunciate around it. It came out: _Oweooepemeawasawiaweawaiaiow?_

In response Big Drone just signaled to Four, and the rack pulled tighter. Loki hissed and yanked at his chains. _Now _he was legitimately uncomfortable. It pulled again. And again. Finally he squeaked. It was steady hot pain to his shoulders and elbows, frightening pain because he felt stretched too far already and he knew they weren't done. Even once the tightening stopped, the pain didn't go away.

He flexed his arms, letting his muscles pull to take some of the strain from his elbows. It helped, a lot. He wondered how long his strength would last.

He hadn't _meant _to, but at the thought of strength his eyes went to Thor, who was already shifting restlessly in his seat. "All right, there, it's hurting him," Thor said, nudging Odin's throne with his boot. "Now ask your questions."

_Nice try, brother. _Loki didn't look to see what Odin's reaction was, but next, Big Drone stepped away. "Get the gag off, and get me a torch."

Loki turned his head to let them get at his mouth, and pursed his lips once the metal was gone. His head still hurt. The next time he had a moment he was going to learn some healing spells, and learn them properly. Vanishing and re-appearing parts of his own head had apparently not really done the trick.

A hiss from beside him drew his attention. He turned and saw that what Big Drone was holding was like no torch he had ever seen. It was a metallic canister with a tube on the end, from which issued a small, neat blue flame. Loki could feel its heat from three feet away.

"His feet are sensitive," Drone Three offered. Loki would have glared at him, if only he'd dared take his eyes off the fire.

"And his hands?" Big Drone said. "Tell me, prince: which hand do you favor – left or right?"

Why – so they would know which to cripple? Loki shook his head.

Big Drone didn't ask again; he just moved around to the head of the rack, and passed the torch at some distance back and forth over all of Loki's fingers.

At first it was just heat, pleasant even, but then the heat began to sting, and then to really sear, and Loki struggled and yelped and finally said "My right!"

The heat made another pass. "To write with?"

"My right!"

Another. "To fight with?" It passed more slowly, burning hotter, longer.

"My _right_ I said, are you deaf? Stop it!"

"And to spellcast?" Back... and forth...

"My- my right, I cast mostly with my right," he babbled as fast as he could, "I can use both but I mostly use my right, _enough, _enough I said! What do you _want_?"

When the torch was finally withdrawn his hands felt stiff and swollen. It hurt to flex them. He wanted to know if he was all right or seriously burned, but he couldn't see for himself. So he looked up at Thor, and saw him sitting stone-faced and with his fists clenched. Not too bad, then. Or else Thor would be on his feet shouting again. Loki relaxed.

… but not too much, because when he forgot to pull with everything he had, the strain fell on his elbows and it was already unbearable. And they had hardly even started to crank.

As if reading his mind, Big Drone put down the torch. "You're not ready for questions yet," he said. He told the others: "Give it a few turns and wait a while. And cut that shirt off - we should be able to start soon."

* * *

Some time later, Loki stepped away from the rack, sighing deep. It felt so _good _not to be trapped in that body, which had been cranked and stretched for an hour now. The strength of his arms and legs had finally been used up completely, so that no more resistance was possible, and there had been nothing to keep pressure off the weak little tendons of his elbows and shoulders and knees. They were tearing, fiber by fiber. He felt it, could feel the injury as it happened, and it was agony. Terrifying as well, because the tension was so complete, perfect; there was not one more speck of slack in any part of his body. If they cranked any more, something was going to rip out of its socket. He guessed it would be his shoulders. The pain pooled hottest there, shooting bolts of fire down his rib cage and through his neck, flaring with every heartbeat.

Even breathing had hurt, and he was trying to do it as carefully as possible.

The rack was indeed as terrible as Loki had been led to believe. But they had made a mistake in leaving him there lying still, to stew in his misery, to _let the rack do its work _as Big Drone put it. Because without any new torments to distract him, Loki was able to summon himself up and flee the scene. He was getting quite good at this, actually.

He twisted side to side, stretching himself out, enjoying the freedom.

"Loki."

A voice in his ear – his ethereal ear right here, and not his miserable racked ear over there – made him jump.

"You," he hissed at Odin, who was standing cool and shining beside him. (And also, still, seated unmoving on his throne.) "Why would I hallucinate you of all people? Go away."

"You are not hallucinating."

He blinked. Yes, he was. He was completely mad. And now he was arguing with his own hallucination. "I don't want to talk to you."

"I'm afraid you have to. Would you rather do it here, or over there?" he nodded towards the rack.

Not much thought required to answer that one. Loki faced the Allfather squarely, clasped his hands behind his back, and prepared to be interrogated. He nodded, crisp.

But Odin sapped the steel from his spine with just a gentle smile. "Come. Walk with me."

* * *

TBC.

(For the Odin-haterz among the audience: don't worry, Loki is not a pushover.)

And the gore's not over, sorry. The real ick comes next chapter. But this was getting too long, so I broke it here.


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: **Torture warning. **The first segment of this chapter is okay, but if you're torture-averse you will want to avoid the rest. In fact, you may want to avoid the rest anyway. It's pretty harsh.

* * *

Loki glanced to the rack. "Is it all right if I…?"

"I won't let you go too far. Come."

It was so easy to just fall in step beside him, too easy, but eventually Loki gathered up the courage to break the silence. "You can't expect me to just stroll around and, and have a chat with you, after…" he gestured around the dungeon.

"Of course I can," Odin said, unruffled. "A _chat _is long overdue – recent events aside, I owe you answers."

"So it's my turn to ask questions." Loki let Odin see his gaze wander, gravitating towards a rack of whips. "Very well: did you ever love me?"

"Loki. You're too intelligent for that," Odin chided. "There is no point asking questions whose answers you won't believe. But of course we love you; you are our son."

"No. I'm Laufey's son, you said." Short and clipped. "Who was my mother? Does she live?"

"I don't know. I found you in the temple, alone with the priests, as I said. It seemed they were performing some ritual – you were surrounded by runes and candles."

"Runes, what runes? Do you know what they were?" The sorcerer in him was itching to get a look, to find out what powers he might have, what curses he might be under.

"No, I'm… sorry. It was so long ago, and my vision was…" he touched his eyepatch.

"Impaired." Loki nodded. "So impaired that you mistook me for another treasure to lock in the weapons vault."

"Loki…"

"So tell me why you took me."

"I have told you…"

"_Tell me._"

Odin sighed. "I thought… very well. The battle was dying down, the war was over, but I knew there would not be peace. Not true peace. Laufey and I could never form that between us. But our children, united, could unite our realms. That was my hope."

Loki blinked. "You make it sound like a wedding."

"Exactly."

Loki frowned in confusion. "To whom?" There was no one, no daughter of Asgard of rank to marry a prince. When he realized what that must mean his eyes got wide. "You planned to have a girl child? To… to give her to me?" A beautiful Aesir girl, golden-haired, docile and loving… born and bred solely to become his. Loki almost lost himself to a daydream. "I would have liked that," he admitted at last. "I would have been good to her."

"Loki…" Odin looked extremely uncomfortable. "That's not…"

"…What you meant?" Of course not. When something sounded too good to be true, it usually was. Loki drew himself up. "Then tell me what you did mean. No more lies, old man. _How _did you intend for me to unite our kingdoms?"

No answer. Possibilities ran through his head. Perhaps he was to be a hostage, kept prisoner until a Jotun female of noble birth was offered up in exchange. Or, perhaps he'd been deliberately raised a weakling, expected to fall to Thor in combat at the appropriate time someday, proving once and for all that Asgard had mastered that miserable little race from that miserable little realm. "Don't be a coward – how many frost-giants did you kill?" he snapped. "You can chop them to pieces and kidnap their children, but you can't look one in the eyes and tell the truth?" His voice was rising. "_What _was your plan?"

"Enough, Loki," Odin said, sharp. "You _will _treat your father with respect." He heaved a sigh, almost pitying. "The truth? The truth is you've been able to shift your shape your entire life. Since your infancy."

Loki still didn't understand.

"I walked into Laufey's temple and I saw his baby. I thought how convenient it would be, how perfect, if we could heal the wounds of our lands through a permanent, loving union. A marriage, yes." He sighed again. "Thor had just been born, and I hoped against hope that when I picked up Laufey's child, I would see that it was a girl. And…" he shrugged.

Loki felt his eyes growing wide. "_No._" So now he was not only a monster… he was a _woman _too. Everything about him was a lie.

He retched, for no reason he understood, and bent to throw up on the floor. When his stomach finished turning inside out, he realized there was a firm hand between his shoulderblades, the same hand that had always been there to help him wait out an upset tummy. He pulled away. Tried to calm down. Noticed that although the vomit _felt _real enough, there was nothing visible on the ground. Interesting.

"I think you took that the wrong way, Loki," Odin said – sounding, gods curse him, _amused_. "You were never female. Only disguised, matching yourself to the image you thought would best please me. You were such a gifted child." He laughed softly. "When I realized I'd been deceived, I was so proud of you. So proud to have you as my son instead."

Loki's eyes stung. Under guise of wiping his mouth, he wiped them with his sleeve. He turned away, and watched himself on the rack. His ribs, too thin, spreading like wings when he breathed. Sweat glistening on his sides. It helped him feel a little more detached, a little less overwhelmed.

"Tell me more," he said, cool. "About myself, as a child. Things from before I would remember."

"What do you want to know?" Odin was standing at his shoulder, watching the rack as well. Loki wondered if it had the same calming effect on him.

"How about… the first time I met my _betrothed_. Did I think him handsome?"

"Don't be obscene. By the time we introduced you we knew what you were," Odin said. "If we hadn't, we would have learned then. Thor pulled your hair – it was fine and black, as it's always been – and you grew so angry you tried to freeze him. You were a fierce little fighter. He screamed, you screamed, and by the time we separated you, you were blue and Thor was frostbitten. We were terrified it would heal with scars."

That sounded… very true. Loki would have smiled, until it occurred to him: "And how did you teach me not to do it again?" he asked, sounding so bitter it hurt his own ears. "More torture?"

"Call it that," Odin said, still peaceful. "We banged loud noises around you until you grew to fear the transformation. We cuddled you in your adopted form, and put you down if your skin started to cool. You were a very quick learner, Loki. Before long you looked unfailingly Aesir, and in time… we all rather forgot."

"How nice for you."

"You wanted truth." Now he sounded only weary.

After what he had been through, Loki could match his weariness without a thought. "I wanted your love," he corrected, without any heat behind it at all.

"You had it. Have it," Odin added, "If you're still interested."

Loki watched the rack, saw his body shudder, the head lolling to the side. "I think I've had enough of your _love, _Father." Finally he turned to face him square and said: "How could you do this?"

"I want to ask you the same question. Among others." Odin reached out and touched his arm, and Loki wished he had the strength to pull away. "Are you ready?"

"No – can't we stay here?" He sounded so desperate, so needy. He hated himself perhaps more than ever.

"We're going back, Loki."

"Father, no," he begged. "I can't."

"Don't lie to me." Odin's voice was still gentle. "You can and you will. You are my son, and you are strong enough."

"Father…"

Gentle, but inflexible. One might as well plead with a piece of wood. "_Come_, Loki." He held out his hand, and Loki saw no choice but to take it.

* * *

Odin was able to return him to his body without any pain at all, but the moment he opened his eyes and took possession again he was reminded why he had fled in the first place. His arms and legs would not move. Pain gnawed at his joints, consuming them. Even breathing was a trial; his shoulders were held so hard up, and his hips down, that every shift of his chest hurt. His condition had certainly worsened in the minutes he had been gone – the rack was working.

"Did I hallucinate all that?" he gasped.

Odin spoke up from his chair. "No." Then he rose. "I would like to ask about his plans for his brother."

The rack tightened and Loki swallowed a scream. It was incredible force, lines of fire up and down his torso as his very _spine_ came under strain. He was literally coming apart. His elbows were a mass of pure white heat, his arms paralyzed – they no longer even felt like limbs.

Drone Three stepped into his line of vision. "Let's talk about your brother, Loki." But Loki's eyes were on Odin, wild.

"You should worry about my plans for _you_!" he screeched, past caring that screeching hurt. "You, I saved your _life_! How could you do this? I'll destroy you!" Afterwards he kept going, a wordless shriek that sounded demented even to his own ears. But it was a fitting expression of the pain he was in. Somehow, the screaming helped him. When Odin at last stepped down from the dais, he was able to quiet down and glare, murderous.

Odin failed to be intimidated. "You would make a formidable enemy, Loki… but I am confident I would be a match for you. It is Thor I am concerned for; you're ten times the strategist he is, and much stronger than I ever realized."

Loki wanted to laugh, and then did. Loud mad laughter, laughter that hurt all the torn muscles of his abdomen, laughter he couldn't control. Because finally, _finally, _here was an affirmation of Odin's esteem. Though not quite under the circumstances he would have wanted.

"Loki!" Bizarrely, a Drone stepped in to speak into his ear, interrupting their family quarrel. Loki closed his mouth, and the laughter still bubbled up rough in his throat, but at least he could hear over it. "Loki. You can't let go; you have to calm down. You have to cooperate. People have _died _here."

Odin wasn't going to let him die; he had already asked for death and been refused it. Still, exercising every bit of discipline he possessed, drawing on memories he didn't like, Loki was able to stop laughing and get his straight face back. "Fine. Ask your questions."

But first the rack moved, and his world exploded.

His shoulders. It _was _his shoulders, pulling free with a deep wrenching sound, first one side and then – after a second of shocking _emptiness _where he felt like one arm had disappeared completely – the other. He _heard_ the pulling, but the clunking shift of bones he _felt _instead. His chains were suddenly loose, but he still had no ability to move his arms; it was like he didn't even have any. It was bewildering, too much pain to process, just a debilitating flash that was all he could see, hear, feel.

"Take up the slack." _That _he heard, and the rack moved again, opening further until his ruined shoulders were again under tension. The ghastly strain was familiar at least, almost a relief; his arms weren't completely disappeared after all. They must still be attached, because they could still hurt.

There was a faint metallic taste in his mouth, and a harsh grating noise he only belatedly realized was coming from his own throat. But the rasp was _good;_ if he concentrated on rasping like that he could not scream, and screaming was bad because it would ask too much of his breathing muscles. They were having a hard enough time just keeping him alive.

Eventually a strange sensation on his side made Loki turn his head. He realized that Drone Three had touched him, just a fingertip to his ribs, but as overtaxed as his nerves had become, he registered the touch as a strange full-body pulsing. He shivered, which awoke pains everywhere, and began to whimper.

"Take a moment," Drone Three said. "Get ready to answer questions – and you had _better_ give it your best efforts. Can you hear me?"

Loki's head twitched. It was meant to be a nod.

"Blink twice if you can understand me, Loki."

He blinked twice.

"Blink twice more if you're lucid enough to continue."

Loki let his eyes flutter closed and stay there.

The Drone laughed. "He's lucid," it called. "He's thinking just fine." Another touch, just the gentlest brush against his skin, but still Loki could hardly bear it. "Now open your eyes, or I'll get the torch."

What he was feeling was so overwhelming that he could hardly wrap his mind around the _idea_ of fearing the torch, much less actually fear it… but on the other hand, if this was what a fingertip felt like then what might the torch do? Loki opened his eyes.

"Answer me in words now: what's your name?"

He whispered it: "Loki."

"Your _full_ name."

"Loki Odinson. _Oh-!_ Wait, no I'm sorry, I'm not-"

"_Stop_. Odinson is fine. That is your name. How did you heal yourself of your sunburn?"

Words were hard and he could only manage a few at a time. "I… shifted. Into Jotun form. The burn cooled."

"Have you heard this puzzle before? A man has a cabbage, a goat, and a wolf, and a boat that only transports one at a time. Have you?"

Loki let his eyes drift close. "Yes."

"What's the answer?"

"A moment." His mind was scattered into a million shards. They were slipping through his fingers. Marshalling thought was a battle, but he was patient, and eventually he managed. "Bring the goat and row back. Bring the wolf and row the goat back. Bring the cabbage and row back alone. Bring the goat." _And then kill and eat all three of them, for being part of such a stupid puzzle._

"Correct. Have you heard this puzzle before? A king's two sons have been set to compete for his crown upon his death. They mount their horses and ride-"

"No." He wasn't much in the mood to hear about a king's two sons. And the puzzle didn't ring any bells anyhow.

"Well, then listen carefully. They mount their horses and ride as slowly as they can; they ride maybe a stone's throw the whole day. And the next. But on the third day they whisper together, and then they jump on the horses and ride as fast as the beasts will carry them. What was the nature of their father's competition?"

"I- I don't know! I've never heard that before in my life!" Loki heard his voice rising almost to a squeak. He couldn't, he _couldn't _be made to suffer for something as stupid as this.

"You aren't trying."

He heard the hiss of the torch being activated, and continued to panic.

"Focus, Loki. We won't burn you while you're thinking. Begin: at first they ride slowly…"

"At first they ride slowly." He squeezed his eyes shut and bore down hard. "Right: they ride slowly. So their father's told them to go slowly, or at least that's the obvious interpretation of whatever he's said to them. But then they speed up… after they've conspired together, they've put their heads together, what have they planned together?" He was muttering aloud. "We haven't heard one is the cleverer, so the new plan is mutual, so what have they both to gain? Well a race to see who can go slowest will go on nearly forever; it's in their interest to avoid that, but how, one minute they're trying to be last, then they're running as fast as they- no not running, they're _riding,_ so then the horse is important, the horse_s_, they thought at first they were meant to ride slowly, which arrives you last and your horse as well, only now they've lost interest in arriving last, so it's not them it's the horse that matters, so yes your own horse can arrive last if you race upon - _He's left his kingdom to the son with the slowest horse,_" he finished in a rush. "Slowest horse. And they traded horses."

"Well done," Three said.

He opened his eyes in time to see Drone Four set down the torch, unused, and take over questioning. "Have you ever disobeyed a command of the Allfather's?"

"Yes."

"Have you ever tricked or convinced others to do it in your place?"

"Yes. Many times."

"Do you not realize that that is treason?"

"It's just for fun. I haven't hurt Asgard," he hissed. "I wouldn't."

"And when Thor is king? Will you disobey his commands as well?"

All Loki could do was wheeze and whimper. There was no answer that would keep him safe. "What do you want me to say?" he asked at last.

"Envision your brother as king. Right now. Nod when you are envisioning it."

Loki closed his eyes, drew up the memory of the coronation. Imagined its end. Himself watching from the sidelines, Thor triumphant with all of Asgard kneeling before him. He nodded.

"In your mind, are you kneeling?"

His heart stopped: he was not. He started to wheeze again, terrified. "Please."

"Loki." The rack shifted, and pain flared up in his arms so badly he had to look to make sure they hadn't been torn off. When he managed to focus his eyes on the damp trembling flesh in front of him, he saw that his shoulder was displaced so far his armpit was at the level of his eyes. His stomach clenched up and he was almost sick.

"Don't retch; it will not help. Answer the questions. You will not be punished for truth. _Were you kneeling_?"

He still couldn't bring himself to say it aloud, but he made the tiny bit of movement he could manage without disturbing his shoulders, and shook his head. "Please don't,_ don't _– I'm sorry. I swear I-"

"_Creature!_" A sure, loud voice put an end to Loki's pleading. He turned his head and saw that Thor was on his feet. "I will never ask my brother to kneel to me," he called. "And I will never send him back here, treason or not. So, enough of this questioning. You talk to no purpose."

At the sight of yet another figure standing over him with authority, Loki grew dizzy. He tried to hold on to the idea that Thor was on his side, but it was just too much work to pay attention. "Enough," he whispered, preparing to give up. Floating, empty. He couldn't answer questions about his own _name _now, much less answer logic puzzles. He felt warm. Abuzz with pain, but… quiet.

But just before he could pass out, Big Drone stepped up and spread a hand over his chest. The fingers pressed in gently, splayed over his ribs. It tickled, but there was no way for Loki to tense.

Then he forgot about the tickling, because the Drone produced in his other hand a sharp stiletto, and without any warning sank it deep between Loki's ribs.

* * *

**TBC.**

I know that getting stabbed is a horrible way to end a chapter. Sorry!

In better news: next chapter is fairly short, and almost done. Should be up tomorrow night or the next morning.

Again, sorry. I did warn that this story was going to be pretty horrible.


	14. Chapter 14 - end of the dungeon scenes

A/N: There's a bit of Thor-bashing here, but take it with a grain of salt; Loki's having a hard time.

Also, obviously, **TORTURE WARNING.** The last one.

* * *

Loki gargled. _Help. _Now he wasn't warm or floating in the least. Thor shouted and jumped from his seat again… and as Loki looked to him in panic, he was forced back down by several Drones and a binding rod. No help from that quarter. Odin hadn't moved. Loki stared down at his chest, at the _blade, _protruding from his fucking _body,_ where he'd been _stabbed, _and he felt it but he was still too shocked for it to hurt much…

Then Big Drone pulled the blade out, and he started to suffocate.

He _couldn't breathe._ He was sucking with all the strength that remained to him, but it was not working, he was _dying_, he sucked and sucked and got no air.

"Loki. _Loki._" All of a sudden it was like a weight had been lifted from off his chest; he filled with sweet blessed air, and he summoned up the huge amount of energy necessary to bend his neck and see what was happening.

Big Drone was pressing something over the wound, some sort of bandage, sealing off the hole. Now he was able to inhale and hold it. "Loki: answer truthfully if you want to keep breathing. Is that clear?"

He nodded, slamming down on panic.

Drone Three stepped up. "Do you keep a candle lit at night, or do you sleep in full dark?"

"Full dark," he answered at once, gratefully. An easy one. But the talking hurt.

"You may whisper. Do you comb your own hair, or it the job of servants or lovers to comb it for you?"

"No… neither."

"Elaborate."

"It needs no comb. I've spelled it."

"Does it need cutting?"

"No. Unless I choose."

"Good, all right. It's the Allfather's turn now." He beckoned for Odin, and then moved around to the foot of the rack. "And remember: if you answer with silence or with lies, then that dressing will come off your chest." And then, as if any further threat were necessary, the Drone poked Loki's foot to make it twitch, which lit his whole leg up with fresh pains – his muscles, his knee, his hip. The tension he was under was impossible.

"Loki." Odin's voice. He closed his eyes, but still could feel the Allfather's gaze on him.

"… Listening."

He was braced up for something terrible, but all Odin did was ask, mildly: "Has your brother been good to you, these last few days?"

"Yes. Helped me, worried for me. Sacrificed for me. He's been _sweet._" Of course he would want to know about Thor above all else.

Perhaps Odin heard something darker in his voice. "But your anger remains."

His eyes snapped open and he spoke with force. "Thor shat on me our entire childhood; do you really expect me to forgive all that because he held my hand for a couple of days and gave me a backrub?"

Odin made a short gesture, and the torch hissed to life.

"In other words _yes, _yes my anger remains," he amended quickly.

"How much anger? Would you have killed him?"

"Would I-? Of course not!" he snarled. "Why does everybody ask me that?"

"You attacked him."

"It wasn't going to _kill_ him. For the love of… You know Thor is never going to fall in combat!" He had to calm down; vehemence was physically painful.

"Then, why? What did you want?"

Loki closed his eyes, remembering it. The hot rage, digging deeper and deeper for insults to make Thor-… "I wanted to _fight_." To fight and fight until all that remained, was the fight. He'd wanted to fight until he could forget what caused the fight, and just… fight.

"Though you knew you would lose." Odin sounded only politely curious. "Did you _want_ to lose? To have Thor beat you senseless, as when you were children and that was the only way he knew to silence you?"

"And he was good at it, wasn't he," Loki hissed, vicious. "Did you know he once cracked four of my ribs, _cracked my ribs_, with his bare hands, and I had to put them back together myself because we were worried he would get into trouble if anybody found out."

"And why did he do that?"

(Because Loki had written a very unflattering song about Thor and a donkey, and found a singer greedy enough to take his money and sing it in public. And then taunted him about it, cruelly. But Thor had deserved it!) "How should I know why?" he snarled, still full of righteous anger. "I was _eight_!"

"Loki…" The Allfather sighed deeply and reached out towards his chest. "You were ten, as you know perfectly well. And you still remember the words of that awful song."

"No- _no!_" he barked in panic, but it was too late; Odin had peeled up the covering from his chest wound, and suddenly his breaths could not sustain him.

"Please." He was gaping like a fish. Wheezing. Panicking. "Father no…"

"Let me know when you are ready to tell the truth."

"Please – please, I'm ready, please. I can't-…"

"… Breathe. Yes, we know. You can't breathe. But you may breathe once you answer me. How old were you when Thor broke your ribs?"

"Ten. He was eleven. Father…"

"Calm down and you'll last a few minutes longer. How did you feel? Angry?"

He could still remember the shock of the thought that _this was it._ It had hurt to draw breath. Rather like now, actually. "No. Afraid at first. We thought I was dying. Afterwards... I felt stupid. Should have stopped him. My fault." He huffed what would have been a laugh. "The anger came later."

"At him?"

"No. Not his fault. He told me – and this was… possibly the only time… Thor has ever impressed me with his intellect." He took a moment to gather himself. "He told me I fight with words and I never pull my punches. Said it wasn't fair he should be expected to pull his." He rested again. "He was right. And still sorry. But the stairs weren't his fault. Nor landing on top. We made up. The anger was for the rest of you. You forgave him unjustly. Always. Father… I need…"

"Yes – almost. The other day: did you mean to goad Thor into beating you into submission, or did you try to win that fight? Think."

He couldn't think. He couldn't _breathe._

"Loki? Your fight with Thor."

The fight. He remembered the fight.

"Were you trying to win?"

"Yes," he whispered, wasting as little air as possible. "Trying to win." He remembered flying at his brother, slamming into him, the _rage_… reveling in the power of Odin's staff, and concentrating so hard to control it. "Carefully," he clarified, remembering.

Odin grew still. "You were not aiming to kill."

_Notice how Laufey is in pieces and Thor is not. _That was too much to say, but Loki saved up enough breath to get out a few words that mattered: "No. But Thor was."

An anguished cry from up on the dais, and Loki turned to see Thor struggling against the magic that bound him. The sight was marvelously cheering; clearly, suffering was transferrable. He wondered what else he could say… but he was getting lightheaded. "_Now_," he gasped. "Or he may get his wish."

"_Loki!_" Thor almost wailed. "Father, enough!"

Odin sighed and replaced the patch, and waited for Loki's head to clear. "So you held back deliberately," he pressed after a time. "Why?"

Loki shook his head frantically. _I don't know _had never been considered an acceptable answer in this room and he _could not _cope with having his air taken away again. But… he didn't know.

"Loki?" Odin's hand hovered over his chest. "Answer me."

He tried to think. He could remember all-consuming rage. Remember the desire to blast at Thor so hard the ground would shake. He could also remember _not _using the staff to obliterate… but he could not remember any reason why. There was no reason.

"Loki?"

"_Don't, _please don't," he pleaded at last, hysterical. If he didn't answer, Odin would kill him. If he lied Odin would kill him. But if he told the truth, Odin would kill him for _sure_.

"Why did you restrain yourself?" His fingers found the edge of the patch. "The truth, Loki. Now."

He gave up, in desperation, and just admitted what was probably going to get him killed. "There was no reason! I _didn't _plan to restrain myself, I didn't think of it, it wasn't part of a plan. I'm sorry, please I'm so sorry. I meant to fight with all I had, please, don't, please forgive me I shouldn't have and I'll never ever raise my hand to my brother again _please._ Father please don't, I can't, _please_…"

He had used the last of his air to plead with, and was crying too hard to take in more.

Odin moved his hand. "All right, Loki. Stop. Hush."

"No," he whimpered as soon as he could.

"Hush." Odin shook his head. "Don't apologize. I believe you, and that is exactly what I needed to know." Loki didn't follow. "It was not calculation that stayed your hand, but love," Odin explained. "It's what I had hoped. In the grip of even the most powerful rage, in possession of fantastic power, you would keep your brother safe. You did. Well done." Loki still didn't grasp the full meaning, until Odin beckoned for Drones and added: "It's over. Nobody will hurt you again."

Letting his chest hitch was a horrible mistake but Loki couldn't stop sobbing.

* * *

Of course, if he was expecting an immediate end to his nightmare, Loki was disappointed. As soon as the Allfather pronounced it _over _Thor was released and tried to run to him, but was prevented. Odin stood in his path and snapped at him about care and patience, and let the Drones explain that the rack had to be unwound slowly or could cause further harm.

It seemed to take forever; Loki kept hoping to faint but did not manage. He did black out when the Drones guided his shoulders back into their sockets, but he woke up again soon after when someone's sharp hot burst of magic was laid down over his chest, pulling closed his stab wound.

"Don't do it, Loki," Odin warned, when he started to draw forth more of the power. "I'll restore you what is yours once we are home. Not here. I'll explain later." As soon as the hole was closed Odin sent the sorcerer away, leaving everything else still unhealed.

Next his chains were removed, and even though he could breathe now and his limbs were all arranged properly, he made no attempts to rise.

Thor was standing over him, constantly doing things that hurt: touching wrists that were chafed raw, crying salt onto a chest covered in open poison-wounds, stroking hair that was attached, however distantly, to a spine that had suffered grave insult. Finally Loki had to shoo him away.

Odin took his place, and was even worse – he ran fingers over the ugly puffy area around Loki's shoulder, which made him convulse in pain. "This is swelling already – how long until bruising is visible?"

Big Drone looked him over, assessing his skin tone, the marks he had already. "Not long. You'll see it darken soon, and by tonight he'll be a horror-show."

Odin stepped away. "Then he may leave tonight. Make him comfortable until then – but without magic, and without clearing up any marks."

Drones buzzed around him, covering him up, turning on lights against the dungeon gloom, giving him ivy. He had no energy to do anything but watch.

"Why?" Thor wanted to know. "Why must he go home looking three-quarters a corpse?"

Loki began to titter. After everything Thor had witnessed, _this _was when he chose to ask why?

"How can you _laugh_?" Thor demanded.

A Drone answered – Drone Two, who Loki hadn't seen in days. When had he arrived? "Because that IV is morphine."

Loki was still giggling. He meant to ask what _morphine _was, but instead he pointed out: "You've been put on cleanup crew," and then he was suddenly diving into sleep, too rapidly to say anything else.

* * *

When Loki awoke, Odin was gone.

He felt less mad, but no healthier: when he tried to sit up, all he managed to do was hurt himself.

"Shh, all is well, Loki. Once you awaken we are leaving."

He turned his head and saw Thor. "Help me up," he rasped, almost a whisper. Thor looked doubtful. He did not want to explain the way resting on the rack made his skin crawl, though, so he just added: "I have lain here long enough."

"Of course. As soon as you feel able, we will go."

When Thor pushed his blanket away and eased him to a sitting position, he began to whimper. Something hurt. He was _miserable._

"Where?" Thor said.

_Everywhere._ But before he could answer, footsteps on his other side scared him and then there was a Drone, Drone Two again, brandishing a binding rod. Instantly his blood pounded in his ears and he began to struggle – weakly.

"Do not fight. This will help." It folded his arms over his chest, one at a time, and sealed them there. That took some of the awful weight off his shoulders, and he stopped making noise. The Drone pressed the rod into his hand and closed his fingers around it. "Here – that is the release."

So he would be taking the binding rod home with him. What an interesting toy. Loki found himself wondering: what was it made of? Did it need a power source? Could it be operated by magic? Could it bind people to each other, or only one person to himself?

"Loki?" Thor touched him on the arm, and he winced. "Are you ready?"

He was cold now, now that his blankets were gone. "Where's..." It came out just a hoarse whisper. He shook his head, cleared his throat and tried again. "Where's my shirt?" He shivered, which hurt everywhere but... duller than before. He suspected he had the ivy to thank for that; it was gone but some of its fog remained.

Thor shook his head. "Father asked me to return you shirtless. Bruised and unbathed. He didn't say why." He frowned. "If he wants you paraded around in shame and weakness, I'll have no part in it. Tell me what you want me to do."

Loki smiled at him, fondly. Who was kneeling before whom again? Although, to be fair, he _did _outrank his brother; he was the king of the frost-giants and Thor still only and ever a prince. Odin wasn't going anywhere. (Without help, that is. A thought Loki set aside firmly, at least for now.)

"Loki? What do you want me to do?"

He tried to pull himself together and plan. "I want you to bring me home, and parade me around as Father ordered," he answered.

"You don't deserve-"

"It's best - this may sap everyone's desire for revenge a bit. The last thing I want is people coming to court clamoring to have me punished." He resolutely did _not _look down at himself. "I think just now I look punished enough already. Nobody will suggest anything more gruesome than this."

Thor swallowed. "It is indeed gruesome," he offered at last.

"I can fix it all once I get my power back," he assured, even though he had no idea whether that was the case. He made a face. "Um. But in the meantime I don't think I should walk. Or can."

"Of course, of course." Thor hovered. "I will take care, but when I pick you up it will still probably hurt."

"I imagine I can handle it."

It did, and he could.

* * *

TBC.

A quick word on Odin: I think I don't have as much hate for him as some of you guys. I do think it's pretty messed-up that he does things to his children like sewing their mouths closed or leaving them to have their eyes eaten away by snake venom for eternity (in legends), banishing them by physically throwing them off a multi-world cliff (in the movie), or sending them away to be tortured (this story). On the other hand, there actually is an other hand. Thor and his friends, including Loki, routinely leap into battles just for funsies and come home all fucked up. Thor actually enjoys getting punched in the face by a giant hard enough to throw him through the air. We saw Fandral get fully run though by an ice spike, and everybody took it in stride, and within a couple of scenes he was completely fine. Odin in legends carved out his own eye, and in the movie seems to have lost it fighting and carried on business as usual to the point of deciding that this was a fine time to negotiate a peace treaty and adopt a new kid, all while blood was still oozing out of his empty socket. Basically, I get the impression that they are differently calibrated than we are with respect to what kinds of things it's okay to do to your body. Not that I would minimize how much Loki's experiences here sucked _for him - _he endured everything alone and scared and without whatever magical resilience Asgard people apparently usually possess. I'm just saying it's entirely possible Odin didn't consider this as unreasonably barbaric as we do. Which makes him somewhat less culpable, in my view.

All that said, though, Loki has been totally messed up and you don't have to worry about a daddy-i-wuv-you ending from me.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Sorry for the delay; I spent half the weekend writing narsty Loki/Thor slash. Oops?**

* * *

Thor said he had been told to take Loki straight to the main hall, and did so without bringing him to his rooms for clothes first or to a bath and in fact without even putting him down for a moment. By the sounds as they approached, it was clear there was some sort of festival in progress. "What is this?" Thor murmured.

"I suppose we'll find out soon." They took a long deep breath together.

"Are you ready?"

"Does it matter? Go." Loki steeled himself for a circus as Thor stepped out from behind the curtain into the great hall itself.

He was not disappointed. A collective gasp went up. The music stopped. Everyone turned to look. The room went completely quiet and the crowd parted, and Thor, resolutely ignoring all of it, strode towards the dais where their parents stood waiting.

Loki had used his binding rod to seal one arm around Thor's neck. The other hung free, which was agonizing, but necessary if he wanted to present himself most artfully. His shoulders were each a mass of dark red-purple bruising, swollen and hard to the touch, and his chest was covered with burns and bruises and weeping sores. He had in the end opted not to remove his trousers, although he had left his battered feet bare. He knew he looked awful, and completely out of place in the charmed golden halls among Asgard's best and brightest.

He would have looked no more inappropriate if he'd shown up blue.

Half-naked and half-dead, with everybody's eyes on him, in the main hall in the middle of a festival. One had to hand it to Odin for creating the most stylish pillory possible. He listened carefully and heard only horrified whispers, which was good; if anybody laughed at him he would take names and once he got his magic back it would cost the fool his life. Or hers.

But no one did anything except draw away and whisper.

When they reached the Allfather, Odin nodded a solemn greeting. "Set him down."

Thor barely moved, but Loki clicked off the binding rod and suddenly had no ability to hold on. He slid down into a heap, laughed because here he was kneeling after all, but before he could comment to Thor about it Thor was crouching beside him. "Lean on me."

He let himself be pulled to his feet, and by an immense effort of will managed to stay that way, leaning on Thor, sweating with the exertion of keeping his knees from buckling.

The crowd was murmuring, shocked really, but then Odin held up his hands and true silence fell.

_Here it comes. _It would start with something like _As you see, Loki Liesmith has been punished for his crimes._

"Between them, your princes have just averted a war," Odin announced. "They have shown strength and courage in the face of terrible hardship, and they have prevailed." Loki tried to keep his face neutral, instead of letting it go stupid with confusion like Thor's. "So tonight we celebrate the safe return of Thor and Loki. Let the feast begin."

* * *

Clothes were brought for Loki, but he refused all attempts to take him to a healer. "The first thing a healer would do is put me to sleep," he said, with a passable imitation of a laugh. "I would rather feast first."

"Are you out of your mind?" Thor muttered to him, sticking tight by his side as the adoring crowds closed in on them.

"Father apparently wants this public," Loki hissed back. "I find I'm not in the mood to cross him just yet."

The truth was he didn't _dare _to cross him. The Allfather was a master liar and tactician. His story would be told and remembered and believed, because after tonight no other interpretation of recent events made any sense. Odin and Thor and Loki stood smiling together and greeting the people as happy father and sons. After this, tales of disownment and betrayal and violence between them would sound completely ridiculous.

He _hated _that he was party to the plan, that it hinged on his cooperation. (_Have a seat. Face front; don't be difficult._) But he saw no choice. He did move to get a little of his own back, by dipping his head to Odin with an icy smile, to show what he didn't quite dare to say. _The God of Lies salutes you, Allfather._

Once people got drink into them and grew hungry for exciting stories, the princes were pressed for details of their _adventures._ Loki sighed. "I'm afraid I am too exhausted to do the tale justice," he said, "And I'm afraid Thor has drunk too much mead."

Odin was watching from down the table. "Tell them at least a little," he urged. _Lie to them._

Perversely, Loki decided to utter only truth. "There was… someone who wanted to renew the quarrel with Jotunheim," he began. "Somebody smuggled some angry frost-giants into our realm, and turned our Bifrost into a weapon to smash theirs. Father sent Thor to Midgard, and me to… to get answers." He shrugged, smiled his most sheepish and charming smile. "Thor did very well, but I'm not the fighter he is. He eventually came after me, and brought me home."

"My brother has been hurt as you see, but also, his magic was sapped," Thor added unexpectedly. "As soon as we have some quiet tonight, Father is going to sit down and restore it."

Now that the crown prince had said so to everyone in the middle of a feast, Odin would have to perform. Loki would have kissed him if he weren't so exhausted. "Well played, brother," he murmured as soon as they had a second to lean close and talk privately.

"You as well. You can weave a glorious lie from nothing but plain truth. Consider me impressed."

"I plan to lie at least once with every breath from now on. I've told enough truth in recent days to last a lifetime." Then his eyes widened. "There I go again – even _that _was truth." Thor laughed, plainly relieved now to see him joking, and Loki pushed another drink towards him. "Call for another toast. The sooner everyone gets drunk, the sooner I can leave."

Thor seemed only too happy to help.

* * *

The next morning his body would not cooperate with him. "Thor," he croaked, lying on his back, in misery and unable to move any part.

"Loki! Morning, brother." Even with his voice thick with sleep, his hair hopelessly ruffled (_Do you comb your own hair_), Thor looked brilliant and impressive. Loki resented it, hard, as Thor vaulted up into sitting position and stretched his arms over his head. "Don't move – I'll go get Father and you'll have your magic back in a few moments. He didn't want to do it while you were asleep. Are you… is it all right if I leave you?"

Last night it had not been. Loki cringed a little when he remembered grasping Thor's hand so hard his own wrist hurt, hissing _Don't leave me _and _Move the bed _and _I sleep against the wall._ But that was silly, and in the light of day he had to make himself understand that it was extremely unlikely anyone was going to come take him away. All Asgard had greeted him as a hero last night; Odin would have a very hard time explaining what had happened to him if he vanished again.

"Go," he said. "I'm fine."

"You're not fine. But you will be in a moment." Thor patted him on the shoulder, which made him seize up with a terrible noise. "Oh-! Forgive me, brother, I-"

"Go, you idiot."

Thor went, and once he finally had privacy it was time to look himself over.

Even getting out of bed was going to be a problem. He rolled carefully from his back to his stomach, groaning as the weight passed over his hip and shoulder, and once he was on his stomach was able to wriggle slowly and painfully to the edge of the bed. Once there he took a moment to catch his breath, and tried to envision a way of standing up comfortably.

There was none. So, he grit his teeth and squirmed a little further, until he fell out of the bed onto the floor. The shock and pain of the fall were so great that he was able to drag himself to his knees without noticing any additional hurt at all. His whole body thrummed with pain, his joints creaked with every movement, but on his knees with his elbows on the bed he thought he was going to be able to stand. The muscles that were supposed to stretch him out had suffered much less abuse yesterday than the ones that were supposed to pull him together.

He counted to himself, and on _three_ heaved himself up to his feet. He clung to the bedpost; if he fell now this would all be for nothing. After a moment he decided he was swaying, but fairly stable. He reached for the fastenings of his tunic, got them open after a lot of effort and groaning, and wiggled out of it.

Leaning on the wall, moving slowly as his legs buckled over and over, he made it the few steps to a mirror, and made himself look.

When he did, he shuddered so hard he almost fell over again. His chest looked _rotted,_ like a month-old corpse, mottled reds and blacks and greens, shreds of flesh loose and hanging. He raised a hand to touch it, shaking, unable to believe that someone could survive in such a condition…

_Oh_. Not shreds of flesh; the bits that hung off his chest were fuzz from his clothing. Wincing, he picked one off, revealing the stinging raw spot underneath. He felt a little better: he wasn't rotting, just filthy. Still, the hideous dark swelling over his shoulders was no illusion. It was ugly, and spreading – deep blue bruising had swallowed up his collarbones and started moving down his ribs. (_He'll be a horror-show.)_

He tried to touch, but raising his opposite arm that far was too hard and he had to give up. Instead he shuffled a little closer to the mirror to get a better look, and was just leaning in when someone cleared his throat from the doorway.

"Loki? Father's here."

He turned from the mirror as fast as he was able, mortified for some reason that Thor and Odin had seen, had watched him licking his wounds, even for a second. He didn't like it. But they were here to restore his powers, so he tried not to glare.

Thor took one look and brought a fist to his mouth, so before he could be sick on the floor Loki explained quickly: "Not as bad as it looks; that's just dirt. Just dirt. It's fine."

"Not fine," Thor insisted again, and stepped aside to let Odin work.

The Allfather spread his hands, closed his eyes, and Loki felt glorious _something _wash over him, filling him up with power, warming him in a way that had nothing to do with temperature. He brought his hands together and formed a ball of light, just because he _could,_ and floated it off through the air. "That's much better," he said, smiling. But he felt too naked smiling, so then he said: "Father, I'm sure you're very busy," and bowed, just a dip of his head really but even that was almost too much pain to bear.

Odin sighed at him and went out without a word. Once he was gone, Thor came close and waited, expectantly, fists on his hips. "Well?" he said. "Come, fix yourself!"

And there it was again, that odd resentment. "Be patient, brother. Don't push me." He summoned his tunic with a flick of his fingers, and used magic to put it on.

"But surely you want to be better without wasting another second? Come, work your spells. You could be good as new already, in the time we've stood talking."

Good as new. All traces of his ordeal erased. _(In time, we all rather… forgot.) _ "How nice for you," he murmured, remembering. Thor looked confused. "I don't think I _will _fix myself," he clarified. "I'm sorry if it inconveniences you, to have an invalid for a brother. I'll go back to my own chambers tonight so as to be out of your hair."

"But – Loki!" Thor laughed, uncomfortably. "Don't be perverse. First, you're staying here. And second, do _not _refuse to heal yourself! That is foolish, and you are no fool. Whatever you are trying to say or do, there surely are better ways than walking around like a-"

"I can't walk, actually," Loki interrupted. "Only stumble."

"Loki!" His voice cracked. "Please, I can't see you like this."

"Then you are more than welcome not to look." Loki gestured, waist-level because it was too hard to raise his arms, and a cloak materialized out of the air to settle over him. But the heavy velvet set his shoulders throbbing, so he winced and lightened the weight with a thought. "Now if you'll pardon me, I want a bath."

Thor stood, not understanding, and Loki did not help him, and they faced each other in silence for long seconds. Eventually Thor started, realizing that he was being thrown out of his own chambers. He ducked his head. "As you wish, brother. Call for me if there is any way I can help." He was already edging towards the door.

"You can help by _not _going straight to Father about this," Loki said, a cold smile curving his lips as Thor's jaw dropped. "Please, of course I can't read minds. You're just as obvious as ever."

"Loki-"

"I said I want a bath. In private."

Thor set his jaw and left, and Loki took a moment to savor his hurt before confronting the logistics of making his way across the bedroom.

* * *

TBC.

As to how much further we're going to continue: not too much further. I have an ending in mind and I think you'll like it and I'm nearly there (maybe 3-4 more chapters?). It'll have some degree of closure, but it's not going to cover longterm Thor/Loki relationship-building. If I did write that, I think I would do it from Thor's POV instead of Loki's.


	16. Chapter 16

Loki considered himself a realist; taking a stand was all very well and good, but it didn't help anything to be unable to leave his bedroom. So, he compromised to the extent of spelling a little stability into his legs, and spelling water directly into his stomach when he thirsted because the act of drinking still made him queasy enough sometimes to throw up. He also lay protective magicks over the corrosion on his chest; he did not want more dirt to get in and frighten him again.

Other than that, though, he remained exactly as the Drones had left him: limbs stiffened, flesh bruised, jaw creaking. He prowled the halls – slowly! – in a long cloak with the hood drawn up. He ate alone, and not much. He spent his time poring over sorcery books, trying to learn more about spells that sapped magic and spells that constrained it – just in case.

He saw no one, except for Thor, who quickly learned not to talk unless he wanted to be verbally savaged to the point of tears. They developed a routine: Thor came in every night (never complaining that Loki had transformed his rooms into a messy hermit's lair), asked about his day and received no answer, and lay down in bed with a sigh. But Thor lying stiff and uncomfortable was not very reassuring, and so once the lights were off Loki would reach over and squeeze his hand, or whisper _goodnight, _or _thank you, brother_, or even, after his swollen shoulders had had a week to return to more normal proportions, curl on his side so that Thor could hold him. Thor would let out a deep breath and relax, and sometimes, though he clearly thought Loki did not notice, weep.

One night the Allfather appeared instead, entering the room without even a knock. Loki heard him coming, though; Thor's step was distinctive and the only one that didn't set him on edge.

He cloaked the room in darkness, _real _darkness, the kind a simple lamp or torch could not penetrate. "Good evening, Father," he said, as steadily as he could.

Odin didn't mince words. "Loki, you can't stay in here forever."

"I've said I'll be happy to go back to my own rooms. Thor is the one who insists I remain."

"Don't pretend to misunderstand. This pigheadedness does not become you."

"No, that's Thor's prerogative, isn't it," Loki snapped. It was childish, he knew it, but he couldn't stop. "There can only be one stubborn ass in the family at a time."

Odin sighed, and gave up. "Very well. If time alone is what you truly desire, you can have it," he said. "I will seek you out again after more time has passed. But until then, my son… if there is any way I can help you, you need only ask."

_I'll never ask you for anything again._ But Loki sensed that it would lose force if he said it aloud, so he answered only: "Good night, Father."

That night, in the dark, he asked: "Did you put him up to that?"

Thor seemed delighted for conversation of any type. "No. In fact I have been trying to keep him away. Is that wrong? I had the impression you did not want visitors. But if you'd have companionship I will gladly-"

"No, you're right, I don't." It was easier, he realized suddenly, to talk in the dark. It was rather like talking to himself, which he did almost constantly. (He had spelled his words to be inaudible to all others; the last thing he wanted was to be overheard in his madness.) "How is Mother?"

Thor only sighed, but it was somehow both sad and reproachful, and it got the message across. Loki didn't want to hear any more.

"That's answer enough," he said shortly. "Fine. I'll come to meals with you then. Some time big and noisy so that there's no serious conversation. I'll smile and talk and set Mother's worries to rest. All right?"

"You do not wish to come."

"No." Loki meant to shrug, and winced. "But Mother doesn't deserve to be upset."

"You are very generous. If I were in your place, and I didn't wish for company…"

"You do sulk like a champion," Loki agreed, chuckling. He rolled carefully onto his side. It was the first face-to-face conversation they had had – even if it was in the dark. He was breathing hard with the movement, trying to get the pain under control.

Thor had learned to avoid suggesting healing spells, but tonight he tried something new. "Would it help if I massaged you?"

Even the _thought _of Thor's huge hands made him wince. "No – don't touch. Not yet."

"What about shifting your form?" Thor asked suddenly. "If they can grow spikes of ice and then return to normal, surely they could… I mean, it must…"

"_No._" He meant it to be the end of the discussion, but Thor as always did not take the hint.

"Why not?"

"There are a thousand reasons. It probably wouldn't help. I don't like the feeling. It's not safe to be Jotun here. I'd give you frostbite."

"That's only four reasons, and they are not good ones," Thor argued, stubborn. "It _might _help, I'd protect you, I don't fear frostbite, and whatever the feeling is it cannot be worse than what you're feeling now." He'd become heated, frustrated, which Loki found highly satisfying. He thought of more provoking things to say.

"Just wait until you're king – then you can order me to change form whenever you like."

"I would-!" Thor began with force, then stopped himself and took a breath instead. Under tight control – or, the closest to tight control that Thor could ever manage – he explained: "I would never order you to do anything of the kind. And more importantly, brother, I don't want to wait until I'm king to see you better. I want you well _now; _I have never seen anyone I love so hurt, for so long."

He sounded like he might choke up in a moment, which made Loki scoff, "Oh, stop it, I'm fine," before he could really consider the words. Then, once he did consider, he laughed. _Fine_?

Thor apparently had the same thought. "You lie."

"I do." He was still laughing. "I really, really do."

* * *

In the morning he sent Thor to breakfast alone, without telling him the real reason: if they showed up together and only one place had been set, Loki would laugh and throw up and destroy the table, all at once. "I want to finish something I'm studying first," he explained. "But tell them I'm coming to dinner, and to have something spectacular for dessert."

Thor did as he said and appeared at dinnertime to escort him, as if he thought Loki wouldn't show up otherwise. They entered the hall together with arms linked (at Thor's insistence, although honestly Loki appreciated the support; falling down in front of his family and friends was really not an auspicious beginning to his new position as hero).

People greeted him with an odd wariness, as if his bad fortune were somehow contagious, but it was _polite _distance, deferential even, and enjoyable after he had so often experienced the opposite. The table was already mostly full and he had to sit several seats away from Thor, which he did not like, and next to Sif, which he liked even less.

From the outset he could feel Sif's eyes on him, but he pretended not to notice. Instead he pretended to eat his food. He wasn't in the mood to eat. Just when he'd finally steeled himself to take a bite, and was in the process of choking it down a bone-dry throat, Sif said, quietly and with suspicion: "What happened?"

It took him time to finish swallowing, which was good because it gave him time to decide on an answer. "Ask Thor."

"Thor won't tell us anything. Only that… all he'll say is that something awful happened, and that you were brave. He doesn't seem to feel betrayed. He laughs when I remind him that you had him slain by the Destroyer. He _laughs_, Loki."

"Thor has always laughed after a good fight," he pointed out, reasonably. "He and I have resolved that business about the Destroyer; it won't happen again. Now if you don't mind, I'd prefer not to discuss family affairs just now."

For a moment he thought she was actually going to let it lie. But then she added, almost under her breath: "If you ever play him false again..."

She would threaten him? At his own _table, _and with his powers restored? Did he command so little respect…

Out of nowhere, rage drained the blood from his head so quickly that he grew dizzy. He took a deep breath and waited for the feeling to fade, and then said, once he could sound calmer: "You'd like to know what happened? Very well, here's a taste." By the way Thor had been looking at him lately, he knew there was something wrong with his eyes - they must be different now, darker, haunted perhaps. Damned if he wouldn't use it to his advantage. He licked his lips slowly and faced her, holding her gaze with his. Sure enough she swallowed and drew away. "I _felt…_ my limbs," he whispered, "Torn… slowly… from their sockets. I was hurt until my mind fractured – literally fractured… until I could actually _see_ the pieces of it dancing around me."

He felt his lips spreading into a smile, and knew from the look on Sif's face that it was a good one. So he went on. "I screamed, and I begged for mercy, and I begged for death. But I was refused all of it, and I had to endure. _And I did_. So please, Sif… please tell me, because…" He laughed a moment, spread his hands. "Because I am, I _am _curious. You saw what I looked like when Thor brought me back here. What exactly do you plan to threaten me with that you think could cause me even a moment's fear?" He faced her with a smile, eyebrows raised, waiting.

She mouthed without words. Finally she managed: "Loki…" And still he waited. She swallowed. "Are you mad?"

It wasn't an insult – it was just a question. And not a bad one, actually. He laughed again, genuine amusement this time, if a little dark. "I don't know. I think I might be."

Again she was at a loss for words and, having had enough of Sif for the time being anyway, he turned from her and made a show of paying attention to the rest of the conversation. Thor was telling Midgard stories to the table, and they were adoring him – as always.

"…thought me hurt, though I was not hurt, and mad, though I am not mad." He was in his element. "So they took me to a place for people both hurt _and_ mad! They laid me out on a table as if they planned to eat me." Laughter all around. Speculation about what a good feast the God of Thunder might make. "And I could not even rise up and refuse them, friends, because they lulled me to sleep with some evil potion, which they poured straight into my-…"

Their eyes met, by chance, and Thor's words stopped suddenly. The joy drained from his face and he looked ill.

"-… Veins, brother," Loki finished for him from down the table. They would have to talk about this. Thor simply could not be allowed to fall apart at every reminder of the dungeon - especially when he himself did not. Here: he would set an example.

Loki gave what he hoped was an untroubled smile, and it seemed to work because nobody else wore that horrified look he'd managed to put on Sif's face earlier. "The machine is called _ivy _and the potion, _morphine."_ His tongue did not fail him; the words came smooth and cool and easy. "If any of you ever find yourselves hurt, and mad, and on Midgard, I earnestly suggest that you try it. If it could make _Thor _feel too peaceful to fight, imagine the bliss it could bring to the rest of us."

While people giggled, he locked eyes with Thor again and signaled for him to go on. _Please don't task me with the entertaining of idiots,_ he begged silently. _ I never had a talent for it and I'm sure I'm less capable today than ever._

"Yes! Peaceful I was," Thor went on, forcibly returning himself to exuberance. "Until I awoke, and discovered that they had clothed me in a woman's dress! Truly! I pity the madmen and invalids of Midgard, friends, if that is how Midgard routinely treats them. Well. Then after I fought free of Hospital…"

Loki turned back to his plate, and occupied himself with gradually vanishing bites' worth of it, so that it would look like he had shared in the meal.

* * *

He _thought _he had done a fine job of looking well and being charming, so he was annoyed that his mother descended upon him the moment he rose from the table. She radiated concern. "Loki, my son." Frigga slipped her arm through his before he could pull away. "Walk me to my rooms."

Was this punishment for his stubborn persistence in refusing healing? But he didn't complain, only grit his teeth and walked the extra distance, politely answering her polite empty conversation.

When they reached her door he planned to bow her in and then vanish, but she abruptly nudged him inside and, with his total lack of balance and grace, he stumbled three steps into the room before he could catch himself.

He heard the door lock. That could not be good. "Mother…"

"Hush, Loki." Frigga's voice was soft as ever, but as ever there was no disagreeing with her. "If you'll tolerate Thor and you'll tolerate your father, then you'll tolerate me. Lie down and let me see."

He glowered. "I won't wipe away my injuries just to make Thor more comfortable and ease the Allfather's conscience." Too late he realized he had left her an opening: _what about to end a mother's pain _or something equally heavy-handed, and he would have no way to refuse.

But what she said was: "Of course not, dear. Now lie down." Patronizing in honeyed tones, _too _honeyed to be anything but a joke, and Loki was effectively amused. He sat down, carefully, on her low couch, and lay back at her gesture. She settled down in a chair next to him. "All right, show me: where does it hurt?"

His jaw dropped. That was straight from his childhood, and his eyes blurred immediately, _tears, _as they always had once he heard his hurt validated. He placed his hands over his ribs and concentrated, vanishing his tunic, and swallowed over the lump in his throat. "Here – for starters." Frigga sucked in her breath.

"Oh, Loki." She reached out… and then frowned. "You've charmed it. Take that covering off."

Instantly he felt much less like crying. "I said I will not wipe this away."

"I'm not telling you to wipe it away," she answered, calm. "I'm asking you let your mother try to ease your suffering. As I've always done." Then she sighed. "Don't be this way, Loki. Not to me."

He scowled, but at the floor, and removed the enchantment. Feeling about eight years old.

Frigga laid both hands over his chest and closed her eyes. Touch hurt, but he held his tongue. After a moment he felt her energies – weak and warm, nothing at all like the Allfather's or his own, probing at him. "And I don't want to talk about it," he added into the silence.

She answered without opening her eyes. "If I ever asked questions about these things you would have stopped coming to me for help long ago. Now settle down."

He felt her warmth penetrating his skin, his muscles, his very _bones, _strengthening him and soothing the hurt. Of course she was not strong enough to truly _heal_ him, not of injuries like these… but he did feel better. He relaxed under her hands and made a pleased noise in his throat, which didn't even mortify him as it should because this was just Mother. It was all right to purr like a kitten for her.

Eventually she let go and sat back. "When you were small I would ask _all better?_, but I know that you aren't, so I won't."

"I'm some portion better," he said, truthfully. "Thank you."

She watched him conjure a shirt. He tried to put it on by hand, and barely managed. "Loki… why?" she asked at last, and he hated that she could not just leave well enough alone. "Why not just go down the weapons vault and pick up that casket for a moment – you'd have the power to fix yourself up whether or not you know any real spells for it."

He had to laugh. "You think Father would let me anywhere near the frost-giants' treasure?"

"Your father loves you and wants you well. He believes your heart is in the right place. And the casket belongs to you – he always intended you to have it someday."

"Did he." Loki felt his eyes narrowing. "Has he told you to talk to me?"

"No," she said serenely, and he believed her. "Just think about it, Loki. And in the meantime, turn over." She plucked at his waistband. "Move these out of the way."

"_Mother._"

She just _looked _at him, and there was no arguing with a look. Loki heaved an enormous sigh and arranged himself face-down on the couch – carefully! – and vanished his trousers.

She didn't say _oh Loki _again, but he heard it in the way her breath caught. He kept his voice even. "Is it that ugly."

"No." She settled hands on his calf and he felt them warm. "The _thought _is certainly that ugly. But your wounds are healing well. Keep still and let me concentrate."

He realized then what _effort _it cost her, the simple attempt to help bruises that were already clearing up on their own, and he began to feel guilty. He could do this to himself with hardly a thought; it wasn't right to make his mother-

"Hush." Apparently she could feel his unease. "Let me." He hushed, and let her warmth seep into him, moving up his leg. Before long he was lethargic, and she took advantage of his silence to _talk _to him. He did not have the energy to stop her. "I wish you would reconsider using your powers for this," she murmured. "I know the memories must be ugly, and they will remain long after your wounds are gone. But that is no reason for you to continue to wear the wounds too." It was a good point, he reflected lazily, and decided to think about it more later on. For now he just kept silent, and let Frigga move to his other side and bless that too, warming and loving and _helping, _and afterwards all he wanted was sleep.

So he dragged himself to his feet and dressed and prepared to make for Thor's rooms. "You're welcome to nap here," she offered, smiling as he shook his head. "But no, I knew you wouldn't. Your father only likes to sleep where he feels safest, too. You're more like him than you realize."

His sense of well-being vanished abruptly, and he ducked away from her attempt to hug him. Anyway he was too old to be hugged. "Mother, stop it. There will never be a reconciliation between the Allfather and me, so just… don't."

"I hear you, Loki." Her smile was benign as ever, but something in her tone was a little off. There was a second half of the sentence, he could hear it, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out what it might be. While he just stood and tried to think, she came up and caught him successfully in her arms. "There. Now go get some sleep. I love you."

He left, and walking back to Thor's was not quite so difficult as walking had been earlier.

* * *

TBC.

So I think my Frigga has a shade more cleverness and backbone than we saw in the movie. All of her dialog there was super-sweet and compassionate, but I think that can't be all there is to her because 1) would Odin really have such a lame consort, and 2) she attacks a frost-giant with a sword. So, while I've tried to keep her sweet and soft, I've also given her a bit of a brain and a spine.


	17. Chapter 17

He was going to see the Allfather. He was going to see, and make demands of, and argue with, the _Allfather_.

He could hardly believe how thoughtlessly he had once abused this possibility, running to Odin with every little question and concern, debating with him about pets and bedtimes and helmets and girls. Now he could hardly bring himself to say good morning. It wasn't _fear_, exactly. He didn't think Odin was going to _do _anything. It was just…

It was just that he was finally treating Odin as the powerful and terrible god he was, instead of the father he had always pretended to be. Loki couldn't fault himself for that; it was definitely safer, and wiser, and more true.

But he still had to go see him. He was tired of feeling vulnerable and afraid, and an audience with the Allfather would cure that… provided he managed it properly, and got his (outlandish, impossible!) request granted.

One did not approach the Allfather in lazily-conjured clothes and fuzzy slippers. (Loki had researched the name of the footwear the Drones had given him, and made himself a pair. They were soft and warm and completely useless for fighting, a nice change from what he was usually expected to wear.) Rather, he would have to go back to his own rooms to dress and make himself presentable. He wanted Thor to go with him, but he missed his chance when Thor rose early and vanished for the day, and had to wait until evening. He was furious that the idea of going alone made him anxious. It was just his _room._ There was nothing there to be anxious about.

"Where were you?" he snarled when Thor came home that night. It was himself that he was annoyed at, but snapping at Thor was still a positive pleasure when it made Thor go all flustered and guilty.

"I- I was-, I was, I did not know you wanted my company today, brother."

"Well, I did. I wanted to go to my room." He sounded like a querulous old woman and for that he hated himself, so when Thor offered to accompany him right away he said thank you, and plucked candy out of the air as a peace offering.

Thor ate it – he would eat anything – but pointed out genially: "Sweets are _your _favorite – if you really want to impress me, you should learn to conjure a full drinking horn."

_(Drink.) _A phantom cramping overtook him and Loki had to pause to steady himself. But he recovered quickly, so quickly that perhaps Thor had not even noticed. "So… tell me about your day," he said, anything to distract himself. "You aren't all sweat and mud today; you haven't been fighting. What were you doing?"

"I do other things besides fight, brother," Thor said loftily. But he was blushing.

A petty little mystery was pleasantly distracting, so Loki pressed on. "If you don't tell me I'll guess, and I guarantee that what I come up with will be even worse than the truth. It will involve women, and horses, and mixing up the two."

"Brother…" Thor sighed, but told. "Do not laugh. I was with tutors. I have asked to learn history and languages and statecraft, all the lessons I ran from as a child. I ought to know these things for myself."

_…instead of relying on you,_ was the unspoken half of the sentence. Loki supposed he couldn't blame him, but still it hurt. "Wise of you; we frost-giants aren't known to make good counselors."

"What?" Thor looked startled. "Oh no no, of course that's not what I meant."

He was making eye contact, which meant he wasn't lying – Thor couldn't tell a lie while staring into your face. Loki would have to cure him of that someday; it was a rather serious handicap. He thought hard for what else Thor might mean, and at that moment almost tripped on the stairs when an unexpected pain shot from his hip.

Ah, of course. "Then it's because you were frightened, realizing how fragile is the shell that holds your pocket library. I could get hurt again someday, killed even, and then I wouldn't be around to-"

"Loki!" Thor looked distressed. Very strange.

Another explanation presented itself and the strength drained suddenly from Loki's legs. He leaned against a wall, but that wasn't enough and he slid down to sit on the floor. Better to sit on purpose than to fall. "He's sending me away again?" he whispered. Power crackled in his hands at the thought, uncontrollable, and he knew he would not allow himself to be made helpless again. He would hang onto his magic and die fighting to protect it, he would-

"_Loki._"

The voice came from far away, and when he blinked himself back to lucidity he saw that Thor was crouched in front of him, holding both his hands and wincing. "Thor?"

"Enough, brother. You're burning me."

Loki looked down and realized that sparks were still sputtering, and jerked his hands free and quieted his power. "Then don't touch, you idiot." Of _course _nobody was sending him back to the dungeons – what a stupid thought. He hadn't done anything to deserve that and Odin wouldn't do it without reason. Besides, he had his magic now to defend himself with, and also, he could get Thor to protect him. Everything was _fine._

He let Thor haul him to his feet, and tried to remember what their conversation had been about before his moment of pathetic contemptible panic. "Then if not any of that, _why_ would you think you finally need to study your lessons?"

Thor rubbed the back of his neck. "I did once imagine that anything I didn't want to worry about I would just hand off to you. I've decided that that would not make me a very good king."

Loki snorted with laughter… and then realized he was _serious,_ and laughed harder. Classic Thor. "You planned to leave all the work to me, and take all the glory for yourself?"

"I didn't-…" Thor pressed his lips together. "I didn't _plan,_" he defended, almost sulky. "I just… assumed."

"You planned to leave all the work to me, and take all the glory for yourself." Loki repeated it with some measure of pride. "I think you're more intelligent than I ever gave you credit for, brother."

* * *

They ended up staying in Loki's room. Loki had meant to stay in there alone, but when he said _I think I should try sleeping in here again _Thor had immediately shrugged and asked for sleepwear. It went surprisingly well. He had thought his old room would seem haunted, an artifact of another time, but other than a brief stab of memory when he cleared pillows from the bed _(Six, I have six, please stop) _everything was fine.

In the morning they dressed – Loki manually and without help now; it was painful but no longer impossible – and went to Odin's together.

He received them in the big master bedroom, as he always had in the days when they were family, but Loki stayed hovering by the door. "I've come to make a request, Father," he said from a distance. He glanced at Frigga, who was reclining in a chair reading.

Not reading. He knew the expression on her face when she read; it was soft and open and rapt. But now he could see that her brow was creased, her eyes just slightly narrowed. She was concentrating – listening. What was she listening for?

"Come in, Loki. What request?" Odin was polishing his eyepatch, which he always did by hand, some sort of bizarre homage to the gruesome injury that he was never willing to disguise with magic. _(You're more like him than you realize.)_ Loki shuddered.

He took one step closer and stopped. Thor kept going, embracing both parents in turn, and Loki felt rather chilly when the place at his side was vacated. Well, perfect. "I want the Casket of Ancient Winters," he said firmly. "It's mine. Whether Jotun property passes by blood or by battle it belongs to me now, and I want it."

Odin wiped his eyepatch one last time and settled it into place. He took his time. Finally he looked up and said, quietly: "The casket is dangerous."

"I've proven that I can control it."

"You have. But Loki…"

"I hope you're not going to say that you don't trust me." Loki did come into the room now, advancing to the scorch-lines on the floor that marked Laufey's end. He held Odin's eye and did not let it go. "Because we went to extreme lengths – _extreme_ – for the express purpose of determining whether I was worthy of trust." He kept his voice low and free of cracks, but it shook. "I passed your test, Allfather. I demand my reward."

"Loki-"

"_Do not deny me._" Loki knew that he couldn't. Not without rendering purposeless the barbaric ordeal he had ordered.

Sure enough, Odin held up a hand. "I have not said I mean to deny you," he answered. "But you must listen. When we act rashly, when we act in anger, we can hurt even people we love."

He paused a moment, and Loki interrupted him with a surprised little laugh. "Are you apologizing to me?"

"No. I am explaining that it's not your heart I doubt, my son, but your judgment. I am asking for a promise that you will use the casket well and carefully. Do not tap its powers in anger, do not use them without reflection. Will you swear?"

Did he mean to go through with it then? Loki could hardly believe it. He stood straight. "I do so swear."

"And you must not hide yourself away with it and become a slave to its power. As you learn more about the casket, as you make deeper and better use of it, I want you to come to me and talk about what you discover. Will you do that?"

He still remembered the first magic lesson Odin had ever given him, sitting so close, Odin's hands guiding his. He tried not to. "I will."

Odin sketched a rune in the air. (A rune that Loki was perfectly able to cast himself when he put his mind to it.) "Then, the weapons vault will open for you. Go down and retrieve what is yours."

* * *

When Loki took up the casket he noticed immediately that it felt different. Stormier. More volatile. Still, he was nothing if not stormier and more volatile himself, and as he set it in the ether within easy grasp he knew it was going to obey him.

Thor, beside him, gasped.

"What?" Loki snapped.

"It disappeared."

Ah. He'd forgotten what the act would look like to someone without even a rudimentary understanding of magic. "It's here," he assured, and brought it forth again between his hands. "I've only put it somewhere that I don't have to actually physically carry it with me. This way I'll have it wherever I go."

"Are you going somewhere? Where are you taking it?" Thor frowned. "You _cannot _return the casket to Jotunheim, brother. I know you must care for your people, but they already have cause to make war on us, and we cannot now give them back their full strength."

Loki frowned. Skipping straight over the stupidity of the idea that the frost-giants were his people, and the equally-stupid suggestion that he planned to return them their weapon… Thor had actually stumbled on something very interesting. "They have cause to make war on us," Loki repeated slowly. "Thor… _are _they making war on us? Right now? The last I heard of Jotunheim you offered a fight, they accepted, and I blasted away at their realm with the Bifrost beam. _Do they have any idea that the war's been cancelled_?"

Thor gaped at him. "At the banquet Father said…"

"Father was lying through his teeth, and you know it," Loki interrupted. He tried to piece together what Odin might have done, and it didn't take long. "I've been imprisoned. You've been with me almost the whole time. Do you think there's _any_ chance that Father left Asgard unattended during that time, to go and parlay with frost-giants?" Thor was silent, and Loki thought on. "If even he could? Without the Bifrost travel is taxing, you have no idea how taxing. Father ripped himself from the sleep to save your life, but he is not rested. Have you taken a good look at him lately?"

"But…" Thor seemed to want to argue with him, but did not seem to have anything to say. "He wouldn't just…"

"Bury his head in the sand? Wait and see what the frost-giants are planning?" _See if his sons can clean up their own mess without putting the realm in further danger? _These were _exactly _the things that Odin might do.

"All right, you're right, Father might well do something of that nature." Thor frowned. "But now that he has told the realm we are at peace, no one is preparing for battle. And without the Bifrost, our armies cannot move with speed."

Loki bit down on any comment about exactly whose fault that was. Instead he just decided to seek advice from someone a bit cleverer than Thor: himself. He drew on the power of the casket and cast a double. A brainless clone would be no more useful than Thor himself, though, so he pulled on some of his own mind, sharing his wit with the copy as best he could. "Good morning, friend! Do you think we're at peace with Jotunheim?"

Thor was staring back and forth between the two of them.

The clone looked bemused. "Are we ever at peace with Jotunheim?"

"I need you to answer my questions, not just ask me more of them."

His double shrugged. "I don't have any answers for you."

"Would it help if I impaled you? That got us answers last time." They scowled at each other. Equally stubborn. _I dare you, _said the clone's eyes. _No you don't, _Loki wanted to answer, but also, _You win of course. _The realization that he was threatening himself, and then calling his own bluff, successfully, and in both directions… it made his head hurt.

"Well, you know there's one place you could surely go to get answers," the double suggested at last.

"I sincerely hope you don't mean the dungeon."

"Worse." The double smirked at him, closed its eyes and turned blue.

Loki destroyed it in a shower of flame. But he suspected it was probably correct.

* * *

Loki told himself that he knew better than to trust the suggestion of the snarky and uncooperative offspring of his own nasty little mind. Thor, however, would not learn that lesson, and seemed determined to follow the clone's advice. He laid out his best arguments, and Loki did not interrupt. "If anyone can talk the frost-giants out of revenge, brother, it is you," he began. _Appeal to vanity. Good tactic._

"... Father would be most grateful. Most impressed." _Appeal to pathetic need for Odin's approval. Low blow, brother, but effective._

"… Come, Loki, you must be getting bored in here." _The God of Mischief is never bored. Those guards in the sickroom with their hands mysteriously stuck to each other's asses? Heh._

"… Well, _I_ am going. With our friends. We would be delighted if you accompanied us, but of course, it's your choice."

That one Loki finally had to answer aloud. "One big long string of untruths," he pronounced. "You _can't_ go, unless I help you. They're not _my_ friends. They would absolutely _not_ be delighted if I came along, and yet it's _not _my choice, is it, because if you go, do you really think I could let you go without me?"

Thor started to light up, but Loki shut him right down. "No, I don't _want_ to go on expeditions with you," he said, cutting. (Lying.) "But without me you'd all get yourselves killed – and we know who the Allfather would blame." That was true enough.

Thor ignored the parts he didn't agree with. "You'll go, then?"

Loki waved a hand, wearily. His shoulder ached and he reminded himself to be more careful. "Get everyone together and I'll open us a portal. To spy, and perhaps to talk – _only._ No fighting." The feeling of plotting an ill-advised adventure – an adventure that was technically not breaking any rules, since the rules it _was _breaking were so fundamental that Odin had not even bothered to articulate them! – twisted his stomach as always. In the old days, though, the twist had been excitement and entirely pleasurable. Now, he felt a little different. A little fear. But he would not back down. "Thor," he added. "On one condition."

"Anything, brother."

This went without saying, hopefully. Loki knew it was stupid to even bring it up, but still, he was in the mood to be cautious about these things just now. "At this point we almost _can't _make things worse with the giants. But still. In the event that we somehow do find a way… in the event that we somehow cause more problems... and Odin is furious at us for making the trip…"

Thor, bless him, had one of his occasional bouts of perceptiveness and didn't make Loki finish the sentence. "Then I will take full blame for everything. Here: as your future king I _order_ you to come. Now it's not even a lie."

Loki believed him, and very nearly thanked him with sincerity. Just in time he caught himself, and said only: "When you tell your friends this plan they're going to kill you. Can I be there? I want to watch."

* * *

TBC.

I'm excited that Loki is up to something. I'm not sure he really knows what it is yet, but I do.


	18. Chapter 18

As they gathered together in Thor's room, everyone behaved towards him exactly as they always had: Hogun neutral, Volstagg loud, Fandral mild, Sif suspicious.

But then Thor came to stand by his side, and said: "Tell them the plan." _That _was new. Thor deferring. He almost didn't know what to say.

"Well, we… go to Jotunheim," he began, awkward until his tongue found its stride. "And we try and ascertain whether they are preparing for war. Whether the Bifrost damaged the place. Whether they've fallen into disarray without their king. We try to learn anything we can, and then we _get out._ I can move us all very quickly, as long as we're touching. So we mustn't get separated. And, Thor? _We cannot fight._"

Thor nodded and crossed his arms. "No fighting."

"I'll land us somewhere secluded, where we won't be seen."

"No," Thor said, fast. "No, choose a wide open field rather. We must avoid ambush – any place with hiding spots could conceal enemies."

A good point. Well, only one of Asgard's princes was a military strategist, and it wasn't Loki. "Open field it is, then. Everyone hold hands." The warriors all grabbed for each other as if by habit – leaving Loki out. He just rolled his eyes and wrapped his arms around Thor from behind; it was more secure that way anyway. "Don't let go." He pulled them all into the ether…

… and out of it again, in Jotunheim, without even straining himself. The casket was a _fantastic _addition to his power. He couldn't believe he had never made efforts to get hold of it before now. He'd managed to place them directly in the center of a wide-open plain that was maybe an hour's walk from the giants' city. Perfect.

While he was busy congratulating himself, though, the others were beginning to complain. "It's cold," Volstagg muttered.

"And dark." Sif added – accurately. The blackness was complete. "I can't see anything here. Loki, can you conjure lights?"

"No." Thor was tense, but calm. "We risk bringing the Jotuns down upon us. Have we arrived during their nighttime?"

Loki didn't think so – he had spent two days here once, and nighttime had never grown this dark. But he elected not to discuss that little trip.

Hogun spoke up. "I have heard," he said, "That nights on Jotunheim can go on for years. Lifetimes, even. They have days of sun, months of twilight, and then years of night."

"I could break my record here, then," Fandral mused. "I could have four _hundred _girls in a night."

Volstagg and Thor both snickered, but Loki was not in the mood for jokes. "Well, do you want to just stand around in the dark? Or shall we leave? Or risk a light? Those are our options."

"No," Thor said again, still calm. "There is another choice. The frost-giants do not carry torches, Loki. I saw no fire at all in their city."

"So?"

"So _they_ must be able to see in the dark," Thor explained, just a tiny hint of emphasis on the word.

Ah. Loki let out a slow breath. He should have known it would come to this. (He _had _known. Or the thought had crossed his mind, at least.) "Everyone stay still and don't panic," he said at last. "I'm going to perform some magic that will let me see in this dark."

It was so cold here that the change seemed to happen almost on its own. He felt a flash of bitter bitter freezing, and then suddenly, the air was just refreshing, and the darkness came in shades of grey and blue. He was facing the others, watching them shiver with his strange new vision. "I can see," he told them. "Not well, but enough. Let me look around and make sure we're not in sight of any encampments, and then I'll make everybody torches. All right?"

They all said _yes _in his general direction. He squashed the impulse to do something fun to them while they were blind, and instead just turned around to get a good look at the plain.

"Oh dear balls of all the gods," he said when he had put his back to the Warriors. Because there were frost-giants. Dozens. Hundreds. Striding fast towards them across the snow.

* * *

Stupid Volstagg had taken a step too far to the left to be in easy grabbing distance. For all of them to link up and try to disappear was risky at best. If he opened the ether and frost-giants poured in…?

"Everyone stay calm, but they're here," he said, voice nearly steady. Rough, though. As befitted a monster. He made a face and shifted form back to his usual; there was no point disguising himself as the Jotuns would surely recognize Thor and the others. "Let me do the talking."

He conjured light – a ball of it, which he grew into a lamp-post so that he didn't have to waste energy holding it up – and then, ignoring the horrified gasps of his companions, turned to the frost-giants and gave a polite bow.

"We come in peace," he called. "To talk only."

The lines parted for what was clearly the leader, and Loki swallowed. Who was this – Laufey's female? His offspring? (It was curiosity only. He was not wondering whether he might be looking on his true brother, or his mother, for the first time. Not at all.)

"Laufey is dead?" The giant's voice was harsh, a growl rather than Laufey's mellow rumbling. For the first time Loki felt a hint of wishing that Laufey was _not_ dead, but unfortunately…

"Yes, dead," he confirmed. "I am sorry for your people's loss. He was seen and slain in Odin's chamber, very near to his goal. His death was quick and clean." He stepped forward, more fully into the lamplight. "Are you the new king?"

"Kings are forged only in battle. Until then I am just a leader like any other."

"Ah, I see." Loki tried not to sound disappointed. Apparently he was not King of the Frost-Giants after all… although, he _had _defeated the previous king in battle, in a sense, so perhaps that counted…

"Why have you come here?" the giant growled.

"To tell you that Asgard does not wish for war."

The frost-giants whispered among themselves. The leader let them a moment, and then pointed out: "Yet you attacked us."

"_Someone_ from Asgard turned our Bifrost beam on you, yes," Loki answered immediately. "But you'll notice that they were stopped after just a few moments – they were caught, and punished. Horrifically. I myself bore witness." He felt Thor move a little closer to him, and while he appreciated the support it also made him nervous; if Thor decided to open his stupid mouth… "We have come to beg you to be satisfied, and to forswear war," he finished, "Just as Asgard will forswear war despite what Laufey almost accomplished."

The giant snorted. "Asgard denounces the work of its own beam."

"Precisely; Asgard has in fact _destroyed _the beam, solely to protect your people."

Thor deemed it a good time to speak up. "Loki speaks true – I destroyed the Bifrost bridge myself," he put in. "I give you the word of Asgard that we seek only peace."

The giant did not take its eyes from Loki. "The word of Asgard means nothing to us. Because of your bravery in coming you will all be permitted to die with honor, but we-"

"The word of Asgard means nothing? What about the word of this?" Loki didn't give himself even a moment to doubt. He transformed and tore his clothing open all in one motion, to give them a good look at the ridges and swirls that marked his body. For all he knew they _meant _something, would identify him, bear out what he said. "The word of a son of Laufey. What is that worth?"

Delightful commotion all around. Everyone nudging and whispering. Thor's friends. The frost-giants. Everyone.

Loki stood perfectly still, basking in it in silence.

"Laufey's son," the giant repeated, nodding slowly.

"Yes. I was taken from this realm as a baby. By the Allfather."

"But now you wish to return to us."

Loki backed up a step. "_No_," he said – too quickly; he tried to soften it and keep all traces of horror from his face. "No, I'm afraid I have… been gone too long, become too… too different. I don't know this place. Thor is my brother, and these are my people now." He gestured behind him, without turning to look, and settled back into his Aesir form.

He almost regretted it – the air was too cold now, the land too dark. Jotunheim was no place for an Asgardian. (Though perhaps it was a perfectly nice place for a son of Laufey.) "But… if you were willing… I would be honored to learn from you," he began. They were listening, and he kept going. "I would learn everything – your lands, your people, your gods. I would learn and I would teach. So that there will be no more talk of _monsters, _and no more stupidity between our realm and yours." He was torn for a moment between politics and loyalty, but in the end, he just had to hope Thor would forgive him. "Stupidity which is largely the fault of my brother, our future king," he added. "And for which Asgard will make reparation, someday, in some manner we can all agree upon."

"I don't suppose you'll offer us the prince's life."

Loki heard Sif gasp behind him and for one fleeting instant he almost said yes. Just to see what would happen. Then he got himself together. "I'm afraid you're correct not to suppose such a thing."

"According to our laws…"

"I would be able to negotiate more intelligently if I _understood _your laws," Loki pointed out, as deferential as he could be while still arguing. "Will you teach me?"

"We will consider. And we will consider a peace with Asgard – perhaps. Someday. In the meantime we will not burn your realm this night. Your overture was well-made."

"And graciously received. Er-… Thank you." _We will not burn your realm this night._ It had a strange lilting quality to it, like a catechism. A ritual phrase perhaps? Marking some sort of provisional peace treaty? Loki couldn't tell for certain. In any case, though, the audience appeared to be over, so he ducked into an awkward little bow, and retreated a step.

The frost-giant blinked and rumbled. It took Loki a moment to realize it was meant to be a laugh – and not unfriendly. "You would learn our customs, child?"

"Please." He found himself flustered for no reason he could explain. "I-… Where I live it's considered that I've attained my manhood, so please don't… I mean-…"

The frost-giant laughed again. "As you will. Come – show yourself, and I will teach you a polite parting."

Loki swallowed – what could the _parting _possibly entail that he needed to be in Jotun form to perform it? But he was in too deep now, so he nodded and let the cold steal over him.

"This is not an affectionate parting, not for friends. It concludes negotiations. Between respected adversaries." The frost-giant held out its hand, palm forward. Loki mirrored the gesture. He saw ice pouring out of the giant's hand, and guessed that he was supposed to send ice from his own. Their ices met, and welded – not clear as ordinary ice would be, but a strange deep blue.

They stood for a moment, until Loki asked softly: "Are there no words?"

"It needs no words. Now twist, and withdraw."

Loki did as he was told. As they both moved their wrists, the ice between them cracked, and Loki felt strange alien slivers melting against him. He shifted Aesir almost at once, and stood staring stupidly at the hand that now glistened with remnants of a frost-giant's (_another _frost-giant's) ice. Oddly the thought brought no horror – only fascination. "Thank you," he said.

The giant shook its head, exasperated. "It needs no words." Without any further words at all, it turned, gestured, and the group moved off the way it had come.

Loki turned back to his own group, and noticed that they were all shivering and miserable. "We should go," he said at once.

_Aye_'s and _yes_'s all around, and they went – but first Thor paused to sling an arm around him and squeeze. (The arm went around his lower back; Thor was properly careful of manhandling him around the rib cage). "Well done, my brother."

* * *

The moment they were safe in Asgard, Volstagg let out a huge laugh and reached to elbow Loki in the side. "That's our Loki! What an illusion. Those ugly blue fools really believed that-"

"Volstagg!" Thor began, but Loki was already in motion.

"Idiot," he snarled, twisting free. "What part of _no more stupidity_ do you-"

"Loki!" Thor put a hand on his chest, as though to hold him back from fighting. Loki felt himself grinning in response, showing his teeth really and loving it; Thor had never before acted like his friends needed protection from his little brother.

Staying between them, Thor turned to the others and explained simply: "That was no trick. It is his natural looks. Loki was adopted and he-… his parents were Jotun. We only just learned."

Silence a moment. Hogun snorted – did he think it was a joke? – and eventually Sif said, softly, "Loki? Is that true?"

"Technically I was kidnapped, not adopted." He shrugged. "But yes: Thor and I are not actually brothers."

"Do not disavow me!" Thor argued, predictably. "We are brothers all our lives, by habit and by affection. Just… just not by blood, that is all."

_Just. All. _Ha.

A hand on Loki's arm made him jump. He turned to see Fandral gripping his sleeve, hard… and holding a naked dagger in his other hand.

Murder. _Perfect_. What a nice ending to his day. Loki was just preparing to laugh bitterly and say so, when Fandral shook him with a wide smile. "Then it's about time we fixed that, isn't it? Give me your arm."

Without waiting for cooperation he took Loki's hand with his own, and closed it around the dagger blade. One sharp tug, sharper perhaps than Loki would have chosen, and then a flash of pain as his blood gushed out onto the floor. Fandral released him. "Thor, come here."

Thor came at once and gripped the bloody dagger without hesitation. He didn't flinch when he was cut, and in fact stretched his fingers so that the wound gaped wider. "Come here, brother." He started forward.

At first Loki drew away, a reasonable instinct when approached by a bloody and agitated Thor. But the others had closed in around him and he couldn't withdraw far. They all – even Sif! – were watching silently, almost rapt. Waiting.

Loki tried hard to think that the whole thing was silly, but recognized the thought for a lie and soon gave up. He clasped Thor's hand and returned his one-armed embrace. "Brother," he agreed into Thor's shoulder, and let Thor kiss both his cheeks, after a surreptitious wipe against his cloak to confirm that they were dry.

When they finally drew apart, Loki reached for Thor's bloody hand once more. "Heal that for you," he offered.

Thor started to give his hand without thinking, but suddenly snatched it back. "No," he insisted. "I'd rather keep it. Surely you understand."

Loki scowled at him and set a good example by magicking his own cut closed. "Sentimental foolishness," he scoffed, but Thor did not relent. So he turned to Fandral instead, before he could be accused of showing sentimental foolishness himself, and told him coolly: "Thanks; I think we needed that."

Volstagg chucked him so hard on the arm that he almost shouted. "I always thought you were a bit odd for a son of Asgard," he admitted. "But for a frost-giant, you're a fucking peach!"

Loki supposed he meant it as a compliment, and bit down on a cutting _Please do your best not to eat me._ "Why thank you." He turned to Sif in case she cared to express anything nice, but she was only staring, unreadable.

He meant to say nothing, but his tongue had its own ideas. "I've heard that there are some terribly deviant people who have imagined having _sex_ with a frost-giant," he purred, with a brief little leer. "If by chance you happen to be one of them..."

She started towards him, likely to smash his face, but Hogun got between. "We should go to dinner, before our absence is noticed," he said with his perfect calm.

"We should, friends. Come." Thor led the way, but he kept Loki beside him, with an arm tight around his shoulders.

The arm hurt like nobody's business but Loki didn't throw it off.

* * *

TBC.

We are getting really close to the end. I'm so sad!


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: Warning for minor self-harm. I'm not even sure if self-harm is the right term for it.**

* * *

Odin wasn't at dinner, so there was no one to ask Thor about the cut on his hand and force him to heal or at least cover it. Loki was annoyed – he didn't particularly enjoy the sight of blood now. Thor didn't seem to mind, though, and even seemed to enjoy it a bit. For him it was a novelty, to experience the real results of an injury.

It occurred to Loki that Odin was wise to staff every training session and every military company with sorcerers adept at healing. Warriors who had never been hurt but temporarily would have little hesitation at charging into battle; Loki himself had now outgrown this fearlessness and would never, ever again follow Thor into a fight.

If the crown prince of Asgard became similarly melee-averse there would be real trouble. And who would be blamed for it?

So, that night before bed Loki tried again. "Thor, let me close that for you," he said again. "You've made your point – whatever it is – and you're bleeding all over the room. If Father sees he'll be annoyed, and he'll blame me."

"He'll be annoyed that we made true the story he's told us all our lives?" Thor crossed his arms, tucking the cut out of sight against his ribs.

"Thor… Please?"

"Hm. So. You'd like to heal me, would you?"

Loki knew that tone. It was the one that said Thor thought he was being _clever._ "Yes," he said, making his eyes round and sad-looking. "I see it must hurt, and there's no need for it. Let me."

Thor nodded as if that was exactly what he expected to hear. "Very well, then I offer a bargain: you may heal me if you also heal yourself."

Loki snorted and abruptly dropped his look of concern. "Fine, no healing. Far be it from me to offer to _help _you. In the meantime at least let me put a bandage over it, though. You'll bleed on your sheets."

He spun a length of clean cloth out of the air, and after just a brief hesitation Thor gave his hand over. Loki pressed the edges of the gash together and wrapped it tightly, _tsk_-ing with disapproval. "Your friends are bloodthirsty little beasts," he said. "A little scratch would have done just as well."

"Not for us. Our bond is deeper than that." Thor waited until the wrapping was done to seize Loki's wrist and drag him into a bone-crushing embrace. Loki whimpered and tried to pull away, but Thor held firm. "I don't care if it hurts. You're going to hug me, brother."

After all this time the hurt wasn't unbearable, so he heaved a loud annoyed sigh and shifted to get his arms around Thor's ribs. "There. Satisfied?"

"Getting there." Thor rubbed over his back, appraising. "You're too thin. I wish you'd learn to fight better. I worry for you."

Loki blinked, then disengaged himself. "There's nothing to worry about." And then, because while he hated to say some things he hated even _more _to leave a good argument unsaid, he added: "I'm not as fragile as you think. You saw me transform today."

Thor laughed and conceded the point then… but later, once the lights were out, he said quietly: "All I could see from behind was blue. I would look on your face, brother. Someday. If you would let me."

"_I _haven't even looked on that face," Loki answered, just as quietly. "And I don't plan to. Good night."

* * *

_If he moved, the serpent would strike. Perhaps if he held still, completely still, it would not see him…_

_Loki wasn't pulling on his chains now, but he knew that he must have rubbed himself raw on them already because he could smell blood. He lay still in the dark, waiting for the burn of the poison, smelling blood…_

… And listening to Thor snoring. Thor. He was in Thor's bed. Safe in Asgard, and the blood he smelled was only because his stupid stubborn brother had gone to bed with a gash in his hand unhealed.

"Just a dream, you fool," he snarled aloud. Thor snuffled in his sleep, so Loki spelled him to deafness and into even deeper slumber.

Loki's heart was racing and he was still cold with sweat. He felt terrified, and knew he would never be able to get back to sleep… unless he woke Thor up for help. Thor would pat his back and say _shhhh_ and soothe him back to sleep like a baby.

It was tempting, but in the end the humiliation would be just too much to handle and he opted against it. Instead he was going to deal with this himself, _right now_, because it was pathetic to fear a dream like the stupidest of children.

As punishment he forced himself to remember the dream, to relive it. The dark. The cave. The _snake._

He shuddered and his heart pounded harder. So, he forced himself to remember even worse things. To _imagine_: the hiss of the door that said Drones were coming. Their cool hands, their dull voices. _Cross your wrists, Loki. _His flesh prickled.

So he forced himself to _do _it, a practiced motion that felt so familiar and natural that he wanted to be sick. He always held left over right, he realized. He had been bound so often that he had a _favorite way_ of positioning himself.

He was panting and his stomach was clenched so hard it was starting to hurt; he was making himself physically ill through nothing more than a slip of memory and a simple painless gesture.

_You're lucky this is all I ask_, he snarled at himself. _Just sitting for a moment with your hands in your lap. I haven't even bound you._

In response to that thought Loki felt his magic surge, and a moment later something plunked down softly on the covers next to him. He groped in the dark… and recognized his binding rod. Somehow, without meaning to, he had summoned it to himself.

_I meant to,_ he growled. _Coward._ He picked it up and crossed his wrists again. It was awkward, but not impossible, to turn the tool around and use it.

Loki felt the seal take hold and dropped the rod, in full panic, yanking uselessly. Suddenly it was terrifying not to be able to see; _anything _could be there in this darkness. He closed his eyes and rallied himself, and the torches of the room all exploded into flame.

When his eyes adjusted he saw Thor, beside him, still bewitched into snores.

_Calm down. Everything's fine. _His own voice was not comforting. _Because you don't **deserve** comfort, _he told himself, _Since there's nothing here to be comforted from. You're afraid of absolutely nothing. Pathetic._

He decided to calm himself down by sheer brute force. He sat up in bed, in full light, with Thor who loved him asleep by his side, and _ordered _himself to breathe more slowly. He was in bed. The lights were on and the room was safe. Thor was here. His magic was alive and well; hands or no he was not helpless. Everything was fucking _fine._

Before long his shaking stopped. His breathing slowed. Thor was beside him and the room was safe. He was not afraid.

_Good, that's a start. Now think of **them. **_Loki did – with his eyes open. (_For now. We'll try with eyes closed tomorrow._). Watching the thick safe door of Thor's bedroom, he carefully remembered the Drones. Watching him, touching him, strong hands on his bare skin as he stumbled down the miserable hallway towards the-

"_No_," he said aloud. That was too much.

_You'll get there,_ he promised himself. For the moment though he would prefer not to call up any more memories; he thought he had had enough of that. _You're doing well with the hands, at least._ And he was. The feeling of being stuck had grown familiar (again), routine, nothing to panic about.

In fact, he was doing so well he decided he should push a little harder. _What else do you fear? None of their toys can hurt you now – why don't you look at one just to prove it_?

For half a heartbeat it seemed like a good idea, and before he could reconsider he pulled and the ether was opening and he had brought himself a present…

He recoiled. By the size and weight of it in his lap he knew what it was. Still, without looking he made himself skim fingers over it. Cold, round metal. He withdrew his hand fast.

_(This will go hard with flesh and blood.) _It washed over him then: the sharp metallic taste, the weight of the thing on his tongue, the struggle to breathe around it. It was too much to have such a device _near _him even, and as Loki clenched his fists it suddenly exploded in a shower of hot red sparks. _Ow._

He looked down at his lap and saw that the pear was gone but he had burnt holes in Thor's covers. He murmured apologies (to whom?), spent a few moments wavering between feeling relieved and feeling disgusted with himself, and finally decided that while it was fine not to want torture equipment in his bedroom, uncontrolled explosions were an embarrassing overreaction. He could not pat himself on the back and go to sleep after that; first he had to do penance, to _earn _his rest.

But how? He decided he needed to pass one, just _one _test manfully, and then he would allow himself to go back to sleep. (Cuddled safely in Thor's arms.) All he had to do was make himself proud, _once._

_Show me you can refuse fear, _he told himself. _Be brave through something – anything – and that's enough. _ He couldn't quite face his terrible memories yet, he had already tackled his reluctance to be helpless, and so he supposed what was left was pain. Could he bear pain without panicking?

_Let's find out. Not with any of **their** tools though. Thor's room must be full of dangerous things; just grab the first one you see lying around. _He opted not to select an actual weapon; if he lost control and buried an axe in his skull (or Thor's) he would have a lot of explaining to do. Rather, he needed something innocuous, something he could handle, something that would not push him too far (on his first attempt).

Draped on one of Thor's chairs was a wide leather belt. Perfect. With a flick of his fingers Loki sent it up into the air and whirled it around. The whistling noise terrified him; his whole body buzzed with imagined pain _already_, and he hadn't even started yet.

_Let's be smart about this. Endure the sound first. _He sat quietly a while, listening, trying to will his body to relax. Eventually listening was all right and then he began to listen _and remember, _to think about what it felt like to be beaten: the hot bursts of pain, the dull throbbing afterwards. At first he was tensing again, but after long moments of breathing and listening, he was able to remember calmly.

_All right. Now for our finale. Take it on your back; if you have problems healing the last thing you need is to try and explain away a black eye tomorrow. _He nodded and floated the belt down to rest on his bedmate. Thor was still snoring away, blissfully unaware, and Loki wished for a moment that _he _had a sorcerer brother who could give a sleep as peaceful as that.

But, before he was allowed to lose himself in daydreams he had something to do.

Without unbinding himself he struggled up and got his knees under him, then leaned forward to rest on his hands. With his wrists crossed it was an awkward, strenuous position, and even after he vanished all his clothing he broke a sweat. A sweat of effort this time, and not of fear.

_Well, you won't be here long. Go on. _He concentrated and brought the strap up into the air. He made it whirl, loudly, and the sound was pretty fucking intimidating and for a moment he wondered whether it would make more sense not to go through with this...

Before the thought was even complete the belt was striking, slashing down across his shoulders.

The stroke was so deafeningly loud, and so powerful his arms slipped out from under him. His face plunked into the mattress.

Then the pain hit. Hard. For a moment it seized his whole body at once, and then afterwards radiated hot steady pulses from the site of the blow. "_Oh-._"

One brief noise made it past his lips, and after that he only breathed – harshly. He couldn't do anything about _that, _but lying in a heap was undignified, so he did drag himself back up onto all fours.

"Nice work," he said at last, aloud. _Let's do it again. _The belt was whirring before he thought to stop himself, and he was just barely braced up when it struck. "_Ah-… fuck…_" It was the same spot – exactly the same spot. Who knew he'd have such good aim, even blind and conflicted and with a weapon he'd never before laid hands on?

"Not funny," he hissed to himself, but the whistling continued and he realized that at least some part of him thought he wasn't finished. "_Really_?" His back _burned. _He heard the change in rhythm that meant a stroke was coming, and he held his breath and _CRACK _there it was.

He squirmed, rolling his shoulders and arching his back, trying to manually dissipate the pain that was all concentrated on one punished stripe of flesh. "Enough, _enough_, isn't that enough?" he snapped, hurting and irritable.

Irritable. Not terrified. "There. Are we satisfied?" he said. But he answered himself with another lash, which he supposed meant _no_.

So he continued. He bore the beating without any more complaints until he chanced to look down, and realized that somewhere in the past few minutes he had begun to bleed. The sight of dark red on Thor's gold sheets startled him, and his concentration broke and the belt fell harmlessly to the bed.

He groped for his binding rod and unsealed his hands, then pushed himself back to study the stains he had made. "You really are a lunatic," he said at last – meaning it.

On the upside, though, he had been lashed hard enough to draw blood and he hardly even cared. The spot stung of course, and when he touched it his fingers came away sticky, but he felt all right. Here, where he was safe, and powerful, and among friends (friend), he didn't fear pain. Or injury, which he could clear up with just a thought. After one last moment of enduring the sharp throbthrobthrob just to show he _could_, Loki smoothed himself over with magic and vanished the wound completely.

_There. **Now** you can rest._

He put out the lights, pulled the enchantments off of Thor, and rolled him onto his side to make a better snuggler out of him. For a while he just lay still and enjoyed the feeling of safety and absence of pain, and before long sleep took him away.

* * *

In the morning Loki awoke stiff, as usual. It irritated him more than usual – the envoy to the frost-giants, who did not fear helplessness or pain, should not be unable to rise from his own (brother's) bed without gasping and hissing like an animal.

Thor jumped up looking perfectly healthy, and the irritation crested. "Give me your hand," Loki ordered.

"What?" Thor looked down at the stained bandage, and then threw his arm behind his back. "No. I told you, you can heal it when-"

"I know. And I said: _Give me your hand._"

Thor smiled. He was going to have to learn a smile that wasn't quite so sunny. Kings just did not walk around grinning like this; it was undignified.

Loki unwound the bandage, which had become crusty and bloody overnight. The cut looked awful. The edges had come apart and were pink and soggy-looking with new healing tissue, but the cut was not closed and the deep red inside of Thor's hand was till plainly visible. "Ugh." He took a deep breath and chilled it, then bent to exhale slowly over Thor's palm.

"What are you…? _Ohhh._"

The deep groan of relief told Loki just how much the injury had been hurting, but he bit down and did not lecture. All he said was: "That should numb it a little while I work. I know how the itch of healing annoys you." First he had to use some destructive magic, to undo the progress Thor's body had already made and unmake the infection that was already starting to take hold. Once the cut was fresh and clean blood was flowing, it was an easy matter to draw the flesh together and knit it back as good as new.

A mark remained, though. A line, almost a burn, but before Loki could work a vanishing, Thor pulled his hand away and asked to keep it. And then stood waiting expectantly. "Your turn, brother."

Today they would be approaching Odin to tell him that they had paid a visit to the realm's most dangerous enemy. It could not hurt to have his full strength about him for that conversation, could it? Loki nodded, and reached for his power, and began to work.

It took longer than he would have thought, but then, his injuries ran deep. By the time he was done he was exhausted and wanted to return to bed. No chance of that, though: Thor was bouncing around him like an overjoyed puppy trying to convince him to come out and show off his glorious perfect health.

Perfect health. He was perfectly healthy. Because it was usual for perfectly healthy people to have themselves whipped to bleeding simply to test their own nerves.

Which reminded him: "Let's clean your bed first. It's covered in blood. Servants will wonder." He wanted the evidence of his own insanity gone as soon as possible.

"Couldn't you just magic it away?" Thor suggested.

"Not now; I'm tired. You have no idea how much I just had to fix."

Thor grew quiet. "No, brother, I do. I remember too clearly." He made a visible effort to cheer up. "Very well, we'll strip the bedding ourselves. Come, help me." He started to untuck corners of the ruined sheets. For a moment Loki thought he wouldn't even notice that some of the blood was on Loki's side instead of his own, but then he said: "I had no idea I was so greedy; I must have occupied the entire bed last night."

Pretend-bickering felt nice. "Yes. You are greedy with bed territory, and you snore." Loki moved his binding rod from the bed and added: "I've thought about sealing your mouth shut with this thing. Do you think it would work?"

Thor winced. "You should destroy that. Silence me some other way."

"Don't tempt me." Loki spun a ball of light between his fingers, wicked. So Thor threw a pillow at him – and he was able to duck, fluidly and without any pain. His mood soared and he accompanied Thor to breakfast without any further prompting at all.

* * *

But breakfast went a little oddly. Because partway through the meal, he felt… magic. It was buzzing in his lap, like a live animal. He looked around fast, trying to see where it was coming from, but he knew the feel of everyone in Asgard with power, and this power belonged to none of them.

"Do you-" He started to ask Thor if he felt the buzz too, but changed his mind because the obvious explanation if nobody else was doing it was that he was doing it himself – and the last thing he wanted now was for Thor to realize how insane he has finally become. "Do you want another?" he improvised smoothly, pointing at Thor's empty glass. "I've been practicing, at your request."

"Why, thank you, brother!" Thor really did look delighted when he conjured the glass full, and he felt a bit guilty because conjuring liquids at the table was a trick he had known since he was a young child. He had only kept it from Thor (as well as from everybody else) until now so that he could use it for things like spiking people's drinks with bodily fluids when he was angry… or with poisons, when he was _very _angry.

He accepted Thor's thanks with a nod and smile, and tried not to mind that his magic was going haywire. Whatever was happening in his lap was… was not really in his lap, so much as hovering invisible _near _his lap, so after a few moments of wondering he pulled for it and conjured the mystery article into being himself.

It was a soft scroll, and once he unrolled it he saw that there was another scroll inside it. He read the main note first. **_Dear Prince Loki:,_** it said, in print that was pretty but far too neat to have been made without machines. **_The terms of our arrangement with you did not include the retention of equipment used during your sessions. Any and all machines, tools, or other articles used in our facility remain our exclusive property and are not to be treated as souvenirs. Please cease and desist all efforts, magical or otherwise, to obtain any additional items. If the item you have taken remains in your possession, we expect it will be returned forthwith. Thank you for your consideration. Sincerely: _**

There was a signature underneath, but Loki could not read it. The rest of the note he understood well enough, though. The Drones apparently thought he had taken their ghastly torture device for_ fun_.

As if. Antagonizing the Drones was certainly something that he might consider a good idea… in about two or three thousand more years. When he was drunk. And suicidal.

"Brother?" Thor was looking at him, and Loki turned the scroll facedown immediately.

"Oh, it's-… nothing. A love letter from Sif. Leave me alone." Once Thor had snorted with laughter and stopped paying attention, Loki unrolled the smaller scroll. Inside that was an even _tinier _scroll, which Loki thought was ridiculous, but in any event he started reading.

The note was handwritten. **_Loki – Hadn't realized you wanted keepsakes. Apologies; would've given you this instead of burning it. Here's what's left. Appreciated your honesty._ **No signature at all this time, and Loki was glad because he didn't like that the Drones seemed to remember him personally and would have liked even less to know them personally as well.

The tiniest scroll had to be unrolled carefully, because it was brittle, charred around the edges. He recognized it at once – his own hand, on ruled paper. His confession. All that remained of it was: **_Also, I like chaos._**

He destroyed the other notes, but tucked the burnt scrap into his sleeve. It was a message worth remembering.

* * *

TBC.

Odin next chapter.


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: As always, writing Loki/Odin dialog takes me a long time. Sorry. I broke this chapter into two, so at least I can get up the part I'm done with and you don't have to wait forever. The next part – the last chapter, I think – will be up in a couple of days, hopefully.**

* * *

They tracked Odin to the library, where he was perusing a shelf that Loki himself had raided a few days ago. Loki wondered if he was being spied upon. It made him nervous enough that he began to decide to wait a while before confessing…

But Thor was already in motion. "We have something to tell you, Father," he boomed.

Loki pulled him aside. "We said _I _would handle this!"

"You handled the last bit of diplomacy. Now it is my turn. See how I learn from you, brother." Thor was _teasing, _damn him. "You should approve. And if only you would-…"

"No," Loki interrupted, knowing full well where the lecture was going. "I have no interest in bettering my ability to bash things with swords or staves or clubs. All right?

Thor put his nose in the air. "I was going to say: _if only you would critique my performance. _ But if it's so much trouble, I can talk to Father alone."

Odin cleared his throat. "Thor?"

"I apologize, Father." Thor had his hand on Loki's shoulder. "We have something to tell you. First I wish to make known that it was entirely my fault; Loki was blameless."

Loki very nearly groaned aloud: he couldn't have thought of a way to make himself look more guilty if he had tried. If he let Thor dig any deeper he might as well just cross his wrists and be done with it. "Father, it turned out well," he interrupted. "As we knew it would. We thought very carefully, we risked nothing but our own lives, we only-"

"You went to Jotunheim."

"Yes." Loki knew he had screened them from Heimdall as capably as ever. "How did you know?"

So far there was no anger. "I could sense that you both had gone from the realm," Odin explained calmly. "I thought perhaps you'd taken Thor to Midgard, to see his woman, but you both said nothing. You went, and returned, in stealth."

Making it obvious that they had gone someplace Odin would have forbidden. Loki would have kicked himself for such a stupid mistake, but they were still in front of the Allfather, and so kicking himself would have to wait.

He ducked his head. "We thought we could investigate, without being seen. We only meant to look. We wanted to know whether things were all right, or whether Asgard needed to prepare for war. It was our mess, and we thought you would prefer us to clean it up ourselves."

"Of course I would prefer that in theory. But you went to_ Jotunheim_. For that you should have asked my permission."

Loki swallowed. Looked at the floor. "I thought you might forbid me to go," he explained. The words, the lies, knit themselves together and rolled seamlessly off his tongue. "I thought you might forbid _me_, but allow Thor, and I knew that if he arrived alone they would blame him for the Bifrost. I didn't want his blood on my hands. At least if I were there, I could explain. And get us home if things went sour."

"I told him you would never forbid him to come with me, Father!" Thor backed the story wholeheartedly. "But still he worried. So, we went in stealth. You had not expressly forbidden us."

"Mm." Odin was failing in his efforts to appear displeased. Loki took note. _So you **were** hoping we would go._ At last Odin said: "Tell me what happened."

Thor leaped in to answer right away. "We saw frost-giants," he said, excited. He would have to learn to think before he spoke. No good came of rushing into such a delicate topic. "Loki spoke to them. And transformed for them. Into the form of his birth. I saw it." The hand on Loki's shoulder tightened all of a sudden. "You never told me."

And no good _ever_ came of broaching at topic like that! "Thor," he hissed.

Odin did not seem willing to open up this argument. "Loki is your brother, as I've always said," he said sharply. "That is all you needed to know."

"Of course, Father," Loki meant to try to smooth things over. "We've-"

… But Thor wasn't finished. "We never knew why we were so different," he accused. "Why he never grew as strong as me. Why our horses always dislike his scent. Why it was clear that I would rule, even though there was no suggestion I would make the better king. It came between us, Father – it was always between us, and we didn't know."

Loki realized that he was about to laugh – and cry. He was dizzy, unsteady on his feet. This was worse than anything Frigga had ever done: Thor had just confirmed his right to feel betrayed, and now he was about to bawl like a baby. _Oh, look at that scrape, poor Loki, that **does** hurt!_

"Enough," he snapped. Voice rough, cracking. "Let me go." His eyes were burning and his chest was tight, too late, he was _crying_,crying in front of the Allfather, just because Thor had taken his side. If there was anything more pathetic...

He pulled free of Thor's arm and turned away, gripping the back of an armchair, forbidding himself to cover his face. That would look even worse, like a weeping woman, so he stood still facing away and tried to get ahold of himself. He drew on magic to help, and the temperature in the room dropped ten degrees as he pulled without any control at all.

Behind him Thor was going: "Father?" and Odin said: "See to your brother."

Then Thor was hovering, touching him from behind. "My apologies, brother. I did not mean to upset you."

Loki waited until he could warm the room again and speak with some steadiness. "You should have left the speaking to me. You are as diplomatic as a bull in mating season."

"I know. I know. I'm sorry."

Loki would have answered him – maybe even to tell him that apology was unnecessary, but just then, there was a crash from across the library.

Odin was on the floor.

* * *

"Father!" Thor ran to him, but Loki could only stare. "Loki – Loki, help, what's the matter with him?"

"It's-…" Loki cleared his throat. "It's the Odinsleep. That's how it started last time."

Odin was stirring. "No," he rasped, clinging to Thor, trying to raise himself. "I am fine. Get your mother – she will… know what to do."

Thor dashed out, leaving them alone together. Loki was paralyzed. For some reason the sight of Odin in a heap was making his heart pound, making him feel _terrified, _but he couldn't tell if the terror was _for_ Odin or _of_ him. "Father?... Is there… a spell…?" He did his best to firm up his voice. "How can I help."

"A chair." Odin was already trying to stand. "I am fine."

Loki helped steady him with magic, still oddly reluctant to come close, and conjured a chair. Odin sank into it. "Thank you, my son."

Abruptly Loki found his voice. "_No. _Don't call me that. We both know it's fiction." Hearing Thor challenge the Allfather on his behalf had made him brave.

"For the last time, Loki: it is not. Your whole life I have loved you as a son."

"Until you sentenced me as a criminal."

"You _were_ a criminal," Odin pointed out. Already he was looking a little less grey. "But still I love you. And I hope that one day we can forgive each other. I know it will take time…" He paused, gathering himself up, and Loki interrupted.

"Unless you can turn time backwards, there is no way I'll ever look at you the way I once did," he hissed. "I loved you. I _hungered _for you. I would have done _anything _for you…" The old desperation was welling up in him and he tried to let it go, to tell himself that it no longer mattered. The argument was old. It would not change. It was the past.

He still could not calm down, but he could at least force himself to rage in silence. He said nothing more. His breaths were harsh and even.

Odin spoke into the quiet: "But now you are disappointed in me, and your views have changed." He shrugged. "I understand. Every son that ever was has felt the same, at some point."

_Breathe. Only breathe. A frost-giant does not lose his temper simply because…_ Oh, who did he think he was fooling? His temper was raging fully out of control.

After a moment Odin at least had the grace to add: "Some more rightfully than others."

Loki still didn't trust himself to speak with calm, so he didn't say anything at all. At least he had stopped crying.

"I love you, Loki. You will accept that some day."

There were voices in the hallway. "Mother's here," Loki managed, and backed even further away.

When they bustled in Frigga began fussing and scolding at the same time. "You cannot keep fighting it," she said at once.

Odin let her feed him something – a potion perhaps? – but then shooed her away, with strengthless arms. "You have been saying that for years."

She rolled her eyes at him and patted his chair. "Loki, would you move this? He needs to go to his bedroom."

"Woman!" He surged to his feet, glaring, and Frigga backed away with half a bow.

"All right, all right. I only wished to help. As I've always done."

Loki caught something in her tone then. The same strange something as the other day, when she'd said something about Loki being more like Odin than he realized. Something about only sleeping where you felt safest. What did she-…

All of a sudden he understood. And he needed to think, needed privacy so he could work out the full implications of this idea without looking calculating in front of his family. He had to go, now, before anyone saw that something was wrong.

"I need the bathroom a moment, I… don't feel well." He backed away, surely looking flustered enough to sell the lie, and then turned to hurry out the side door.

He could hear Thor behind him, explaining: "Injury distresses Loki now. He behaved this way earlier, when he saw me bleed. Can I get you a drink, Father? When he sees that you're stronger, that it was only a momentary fit, surely he will be comforted."

_Perfect. _Thor was the perfect unknowing accomplice. Loki locked the bathroom door behind him and bit his lip. He looked around, made sure he was alone. Cast a charm so that Heimdall couldn't see him. And then, only then, let an enormous grin split his face.

He was so delighted that he felt light-headed, so he leaned on the counter, staring at himself in the mirror, trying to keep hold of himself. _Your father only likes to sleep where he feels safest._ Odin was exhausted. He had been fighting the sleep for so long, and clearly he was strong, but still, even a king and god had a breaking point. Loki could swear to that; he had plenty of experience with breaking points himself lately and he thought that by now he knew one when he saw it.

If he could just make Odin feel safe, he would rest. He would lie quiet and helpless and harmless, lost to the Odinsleep for who knows how long, leaving Thor the only man to outrank Loki in all of Asgard. And Thor was no threat. No problem. Because he _loved _Loki and wouldn't hurt him, and also because he was no match for Loki anyway, but _also _because_, _perhaps most importantly, he wouldn't do anything at all to jeopardize the bond they had been building.

In other words, ultimate power awaited, if only Loki could lull the dragon now.

And he could. He _could._ He had some truths to work with, and some lies that Odin very much wished to believe, and the day Loki Silvertongue could not spin a tale with such good material would be a very sad day indeed.

So what, exactly, did he need to say? _Think, Loki,_ he whispered silently, into the mirror. _Focus. _

* * *

TBC.

I do believe that Loki sometimes thinks he is being calculating when really he's just totally half-baked.


	21. Chapter 21 - end of Rehabilitation

**A/N: This is ridiculously long.**

* * *

Gripping the counter, staring unblinking so that there would not be even one second of darkness during which he could panic, Loki had himself remember: What had they asked about? What did they really want to know?

When he first called up memories of the Drones' questioning, memories of scrambling for answers to save himself from pain, a sharp stabbing cramp tore through him and almost ended the experiment straight away. _No – don't panic,_ he ordered himself, staring into the mirror, breathing through it until it faded. _It's nothing. You don't fear pain, remember?_

He breathed deeply, as he had last night, calming himself down bit by bit until his heart had slowed and he felt ready to continue. There. What had they asked about? Thor, mostly. Bringing the frost-giants to his brother's coronation. (Pain again, worse this time, but he kept breathing and ignored it.) Fighting with Thor over the Bifrost. Odin had finally come right out and said it in the end: _It's Thor I am concerned for; you're ten times the strategist he is._

Apparently the fear was that with Odin sleeping Loki would overwhelm his brother, and… and do what? Take over the guarding of a people that didn't even like him? Sacrifice his freedom to sit on the throne and be hated? He knew perfectly well that he would have no joy of ruling. **_I like chaos._**

But the overwhelming stupidity of Odin's fears didn't change the fact that Odin wouldn't sleep until they were soothed away. There had to be a better method than telling him, truthfully: _I have outgrown the desire to impress you, so you can take your realm and shove it; I have no interest in guarding it for you any longer._

Were there clues in what Odin had just said to him a few moments ago? _I have loved you like a son, _et cetera, _One day we can forgive each other,_ et cetera. Thor: _Injury distresses Loki now._

His mind churned; he let it. Moving over all the things he knew, fitting them together like a puzzle, creating words, persuasive ones, until he was sure he could show Odin exactly what Odin needed to see.

When he was ready, he splashed water into his eyes in an excess of caution and rubbed them red. _Then_ he took the cloaking charm away. If Heimdall looked now he would think Loki had hidden himself because he was embarrassed to be seen in tears – nobody would guess that he'd spent the last ten minutes grinning like a skull and plotting.

* * *

When he came out, Frigga and Odin had gone from the library. Thor remained. "Mother persuaded him to lie down for a little while," he said. "But he is strong. He will not sleep."

"He is stubborn," Loki corrected. "But let's go to him. I think we might owe him an apology; we upset him and now look what's happened."

Thor looked almost sulky. "If apologies are owed it is mutual," he muttered, but Loki saw the crease in his forehead.

"It was not your fault, Thor. He was just surprised to see you take my part. More surprised to hear you speak so well in public. He'll get over it."

Thor returned his smile and shoved. Loki had always hated the way Thor could toss him around one-handed, but now, he was so glad to be able to bear shoving that he didn't mind.

"Did I really speak well, brother?"

_It was always between us, and we didn't know. _ It was very well-put, especially for Thor, but Loki wasn't about to give his brother any excuse to keep beaming. "If you fish for more compliments from me I'll say something that is not complimentary."

When they got to Odin's bedroom Loki suggested that they visit him in turn. He sent Thor in first, but just a few short moments later Thor returned, and gestured Loki in instead. Looking thoughtful.

* * *

"Your brother and I had a good discussion," Odin began.

Loki blinked. "Thor was in here for two minutes. Can he string a single sentence together in that time?"

"I'm disappointed, Loki." Odin rose slowly from his chair and came forward. "You underestimate your brother – and me."

Of course. Odin was a powerful sorcerer; he must have pulled them out of time for a nice leisurely conversation. "How long did you talk?" he asked at last, more respectfully. He reached out with his own magic and tried to feel whether time was flowing normally now. It seemed to be.

"A few hours at least. We spoke about you."

"Did you? I don't-…." Loki shut himself up in time. _I don't see a rack,_ he was about to scathe, _So how could you believe anything he said? Oh wait, it's only **me** who has to prove his words by suffering; everyone else is believed without question._ He cleared his throat. "What did you say?" he asked instead. Politely.

"Please – sit." Odin gestured and a chair slid forward. Once Loki was seated he settled himself down on the edge of the bed and said: "Thor has become very devoted to you."

Loki didn't like his tone. "And that surprises you." Was it so shocking that he inspired devotion? Then something occurred to him that he probably should have thought of earlier. "You didn't plan for that… but you _did _plan for me to become devoted to _him_," he realized. "Didn't you. That's why you sent him to me in that place. So that he would show me kindness, at which point I would immediately begin eating out of his hand." And it had _worked._ Loki felt sick at how easily he had been bought. He was going to _kill _Thor for this.

Odin shook his head. "In truth, Loki, no: I did not expect any of that. I didn't think his presence would be much comfort to you at all. He has changed."

True enough. Before Midgard Thor would have been an absolute plague in the dungeon – watching without a shred of sympathy, lecturing Loki when he showed resistance, heaping contempt on him when he failed to take punishment in silence. "Yes, he has. For the better – if my opinion means anything."

His first move, successful. Odin gave a small smile and said: "I can't remember the last time you praised your brother and meant it."

Loki only shrugged uncomfortably. "Your plan worked even better than you expected. You sought to tame me through fear, but now you've got me feeling affection instead. You are a truly masterful strategist, Allfather."

"You cut me – as you mean to." Odin raised his chin. "But I don't complain. Now that your anger is harmless, you may cling to it as long as you like."

Loki laughed. "Harmless?" _I am plotting against you as we speak!_

"You wouldn't kill your brother – you've admitted it yourself. And while Thor lives, you can never rule."

He bit down on a sarcastic _Oh can't I_? He seemed to recall that he had done just that, while Thor played around in the Midgard desert.

"The people recognized you both as heroes, Loki, but they will never forget the sight of Thor carrying you home like a babe in arms. The sight of his strength, next to your weakness, will stay with them forever."

_Father has asked me to return you shirtless, bruised and unbathed…_

It had never occurred to him to wonder what that striking entrance was meant to accomplish. Well, now he knew. The Allfather really _was _a master strategist; Loki could learn quite a bit from him about stone-cold calculation.

"I hate you," he said unexpectedly. Calm and even. "I think I should have let Laufey have what he came for."

_Nice work, Loki._ There went his chance to lull Odin to sleep. All his plotting, ruined.

So abruptly he changed tactics: perhaps he could use bullying instead. It _was _possible to fell Odin in such a way; Loki had (accidentally) done it down in the weapons vault. "It makes me ill to look at you now." Not that Odin would care about that. But there were better, uglier things he could say. "And Thor as well – he used to think the sun rose and set on you, but now he's sworn he'd _fight _you for my sake and I believe him. Your sons have grown up, Allfather, and they've grown away from you and you can't stop them."

Odin's jaw clenched, but he didn't speak in time and so Loki kept going.

"Do you so fear the sleep that you'll carry on this far past your endurance? Limping along in frailty and weakness, like a, a sick pet that we all pity too much to put down." His voice was smooth, and acid enough to hurt his own ears. "We can all see that your body _begs_ you for sleep, Allfather. Do us a favor and oblige it. Your idiot son will take the throne, and I'll be around to clean up his messes, and Asgard will prosper and I will freeze and everything will be as it should. Lie back."

He raised his hand and with a burst of power threw Odin back against the headboard. Odin only said: "Loki," and Loki heard that it was full of weariness.

"_Don't_ tell me that you love me," Loki anticipated. "You lit a fire, and you had better not approach again until it burns out. If you care anything for your own safety."

He stood there breathing hard, and wondering what Odin was going to do. Kill him, perhaps. Shout at him. Weep over their destroyed family.

Odin did none of those things. He just smoothed his hair back and said firmly: "Don't shove your king; it's disrespectful." And he lay down in the bed.

"_What?_" It couldn't, _couldn't _be as easy as that. Loki rushed forward and went to his knees. "I- I don't understand," he stammered.

"What more was I waiting for?" Odin pointed out, reasonably. He was slowing down, the energy draining from him with every word. "There will be no war. Asgard is in good hands. Strong... competent hands. My sons have grown up. As you say."

"But- but wait!" Loki grabbed his hand and slapped it a few times, frantically. "Father! Wait." Odin's eye opened. "What about-…" He thought fast. "What about Mother?"

"This will not… surprise her. I will see her… when I wake. Good night, Loki."

"_Wait!_"

But Odin was already asleep.

* * *

"Father? Hello?" No answer. Loki swallowed. "Can you hear me, Father – are you…?" He realized with some surprise that he was _afraid._ Of what?

"Father." Supporting his weight with one hand on the edge of the bed, Loki leaned close and actually _tapped _on his eyepatch. "Wake up." Still nothing.

"Wake up!" He licked his lips. "If you don't come stop me I'm going to… do something." A strange strangled giggle escaped his throat. _What are you doing?_ "I'll… I'll put your helmet on and jump on your bed. Father?"

No answer. So, being a man of his word, he hid the room from Heimdall, and then put on Odin's helmet and proceeded to jump on his bed. For maximum effect he summoned Gungnir and swung it around while jumping. "We are all very mindful of decorum and dignity in the House of Odin!" he shouted. Complete with wild laughter. He could not believe Odin was not rising up to put a stop to it.

He conjured a few inappropriately-colored birds to fly around the chamber squawking. "Father?" he knelt down on the bed, still giggling. A bird zoomed past his head and he had to duck. "Better wake up. They're going to shit all over your desk."

He looked down at Odin, lying so still… was he even breathing? Curious, Loki leaned down closer to his face to check.

When he did that, he was swept by the memory of what Laufey had looked like making that same motion. Bending down to whisper poisonous resentment in Odin's ear…

He felt himself tingling and realized that he was transforming. _Becoming _Laufey – or whatever he looked like in this state; he had yet to really examine himself in a mirror but he imagined he must look something like his sire.

He was done laughing, and now felt quite serious, so he vanished his flock of birds and tossed the helmet down onto the bed. He straddled Odin and bent very low, as Laufey had done. "Allfather. Odin. Can you hear me? Could you _stop _me?"

For once he wasn't sickened by the deep growl of his own voice. Now it felt only… ominous. Properly so. It was loud in the silence of the room, even when he meant to whisper. As loud as Laufey had been.

He remembered the spike of ice growing in Laufey's hand, and without much trouble grew one of his own. "I could gut you right here." He lowered the spike to rest against Odin's chest. "Or I could take your other eye too. With half your eyesight you brought a frost-giant home – what might you adopt if I blinded you the rest of the way?" He waited, but it was not very satisfying to threaten a statue. And it made his stomach churn, taking on the Allfather – even when he couldn't fight back.

He brought the ice dagger down and drew it over Odin's cheek. Gently – so gently it didn't break the skin, didn't even scratch. It left a shining wet streak where it melted against his warmth.

"Ice doesn't melt when it touches _me_, Father_._" He chuckled. Odin lay still.

He considered the sound of his own laugh, and decided that he liked it. In a dark, private sort of way; it was not a laugh he would ever allow anyone to hear. "Hmm."

He also liked the sound of his own pensive rumble.

He _didn't _like the look of his hands, the blue, the ridges. He frowned at them. Such a contrast to Odin's mellow gold skin. He cupped Odin's cheek and felt the difference in temperature.

But he didn't like the tenderness in the gesture; if Odin really _was _watching he might misread it.

"I could kill you where you lie," he whispered. "Or I could leave here, and kill Thor instead. Perhaps I need a life to pay for what was done to me. His would do as well as anyone's. I would make it clean, though. He deserves that much from me."

He waited. Still no motion. "Or, perhaps I would not make it clean. Perhaps I'll chain him and take my time with him, and wear through him by inches, the way I learned from your own torturers." He thought about it a moment, what it would look like, Thor wide open and helpless and streaming with sweat and blood. His eyes would show the confused sadness of a kicked puppy… the fury of a wounded berserker… and pure, raw _pain. _That much he could imagine. He couldn't quite imagine what Thor would look like broken and hopeless, but then, it wasn't Thor's habit to be broken or hopeless. Perhaps he would have to learn how.

He held Odin's eye open while he thought, because he knew that what he was thinking would be reflected in his face, and if Odin really _was _sentient he would see it and despair. "Yes, it _will_ be terrible," he rumbled. "Now that I have the casket I can heal him over and over again, and keep going. I'll kill _your son _for a hundred lifetimes, and I'll enjoy every second of it. And I'll do it right in this room, so that you can hear each scream and each time he begs mercy." Inspiration struck and he smiled – an awkward expression on a Jotun face, he could feel it, but he didn't care. "You'll hear how each time I force new pain on him I make him call me _brother_."

He released Odin's eyelid and sat back on his heels. "You asked how deep my anger ran, Allfather. Now you know. Sit up and fight me if you can."

He raised his dagger and waited. There was no movement. He waited a bit longer.

Then there _was_ movement – but not from Odin. Loki caught movement out of the corner of his eye and he whipped around and noticed, for the first time, that Thor was standing in the doorway. And had been.

* * *

**A/N: THAT WAS GOING TO BE THE END OF THE CHAPTER. WHAT A NASTY CLIFFHANGER IT WOULD HAVE BEEN. SO I DECIDED TO POST ALL THE REST AT ONCE INSTEAD. THIS IS THE END.**

* * *

Loki stared. "Thor."

"Loki." It was almost a question.

_It's not what it looks like, _he wanted to say, but he couldn't swallow. He felt hot and prickly all of a sudden, sick, and he realized that Jotun bodies were not meant to break a sweat. "How long...?"

"Long enough." Thor sounded oddly choked too.

"Why didn't you stop me?" Loki melted the dagger away, vaporized it into a cloud of steam.

Thor crossed his arms over his chest, shoulders drooping. "I let Father treat with you as he thought best," he said at last. "I did not interfere with him. I would not interfere with you."

_That's a lie, _Loki decided. _I think Odin put you up to this himself._ But he had more important things to wonder about than a sleeping god's motives. He climbed down slowly from the bed. "Did you hear what I said?"

"Every word."

He came a few steps closer. "And?"

Thor held his ground. Squared his shoulders. "And nothing. You are a liar. You have taken me to task since we were children for believing your words without question; now, finally, I have learned." But Thor himself was a terrible liar; his voice was shaking, his eyes darting back and forth across Loki's face.

So Loki toyed with him. "Oh? You don't believe I was serious?"

"I believe you were seeking to jar Father from his sleep," Thor insisted. "Testing whether you could." He looked more and more nervous the nearer Loki came. "Am I wrong?"

Loki laughed, softly. It was almost a purr. "Would you believe me if I answered?"

"I would."

Loki closed the remaining distance, towering over him. "I thought I've warned you not to be so naive."

Thor still didn't flinch - and Loki had to admire his discipline, because clearly he wanted to. "You're my brother, Loki. I trust you."

"Indeed." It did not seem to be entirely true, though; when Loki reached out slowly towards his face, Thor shied away. Tense all over.

That hurt more than Loki was expecting, but he did his best to laugh it off. "Ah. You're wiser than you know."

Thor spoke into his shoulder. "No – it's only that you forget: you'll burn me."

"I won't. Face front." Loki touched his chin and turned his head – pulling the cold away carefully, keeping himself a temperature that was bearable against Aesir skin. "Now look. You wanted to see, so look!"

Thor looked, eyes wide. Loki stepped closer...

And Thor gave ground at last, edging along the wall. Loki followed him a bit and then ordered: "_Stop_," and Thor stopped. "Do you trust me?"

"Loki," he pleaded. But when Loki gave him no help or reassurance, just continued to stare at him with a frost-giant's eyes, he finally drew himself up and made his own decision. "Yes."

"Then you're a fool. Turn around." _What are you doing?_ But even his inner voice sounded wrong now. He ignored it, and focused on watching Thor hesitate and take a deep breath and turn around.

"Hands." Thor gave them, and Loki bound them with ice. _Enchanted_ ice, which would not shatter, not even for the god of thunder.

"Loki...?"

"Quiet." He passed a hand over Thor's face and frosted over most of it, sealing his eyes closed. He shoved, and it took Thor a step or two to find his balance. Blind and disoriented.

"Brother?"

Loki conjured a chair. "Sit. It's behind you."

Thor stumbled against it and sat.

"Did you hear what I was saying?" Loki pressed.

The sound of his voice was apparently terrifying to a blindfolded man; Thor flinched and his breaths became loud and heaving.

Loki reached out with magic to tap him on the shoulder, which made him gasp. "I said: _did you_?"

Thor gasped _yes_.

"Are you afraid? And don't lie to me, brother – I can feel your heart." He came close and tore open Thor's shirt. Laid his hand over Thor's chest – and let it chill, until it was cold enough to hurt, almost cold enough to damage. "Are you afraid?"

Thor was shivering and jerking. "Yes. _Yes_, yes I'm afraid, but Loki. It is not pain I fear."

"Oh?" He withdrew his hand; he didn't yet know how much cold it was safe to share. Yet. "Then what do you fear?"

Thor sagged with relief once the icy touch was gone, but he still shook.

"Helplessness? Humiliation? The touch of a frost-giant? Death?"

"_No_! No, of course not, n-n-none of that." Thor was shaking harder and harder, freezing, and without thinking Loki swirled some warmer air around him. Thor arched into it.

"Then what?"

"I-I'm af- af-." He was chattering too hard to speak clearly. He licked his lips and tried again. "I'm af-fraid that you hate me, brother."

Loki felt his breath catch. Thor turned towards him, at least towards his general direction, and said: "Loki, please. D-Don't hate me. I'll b-b-bear pain for you if you wish to s-see it, but please. You're my b-brother. Be my friend."

Loki swallowed. Once, twice... his throat was still thick. "Y-..." He couldn't talk. "Wait." He shifted his shape, thinking he would have an easier time controlling the body he knew best. He cleared his throat again, and this time it stuck. "You are a fool."

"Loki!" Hearing the familiar voice, Thor leaned towards him. He looked chilled to the bone, and Loki felt sympathetic goosebumps breaking out on his arms. He couldn't go on.

"Still me." He sighed and put a hand on his brother's head. "Is this hurting you?" he said, tapping on the ice.

Thor's lips were blue. "Yes – the c-cold. Against my eyes."

It was harder in this form, without his instinctive control of moisture and temperature, but still Loki was able to channel enough magical heat to melt it. "Better?"

"_Ah- _yes. Thank you." Thor was still shivering, and blinking water out of his eyes, but he wasn't struggling against the ice that bound his arms. "I meant it, Loki. If it would help you. I am willing to suffer for you, if it will help. I will do it gladly."

Loki sighed again, deeper, and looked him over. Soaked and shaking, his shirt ripped open, a red handprint over his heart. "I don't think it would," he said at last. That wasn't strictly true, but in a way it was, because putting holes in Thor (especially in Odin's hearing!) would definitely give him a few moments' joy… but he would almost certainly feel sorry about it later. "But I believe you, and I thank you for the offer. That _does _help."

Thor relaxed back in the chair. He didn't ask, but his discomfort was visible and before long Loki gestured wearily. "Stand up; I'll get that off you."

Thor stood at once and faced away. "That was impressive magic, brother," he said as Loki melted the ice from his arms and conjured a towel. "Can you do it now? Or only in your other form?"

His _other _form. As if it were some sort of auxiliary, a spare. A bonus body.

"I don't know," he said, after far too long a pause. "I think that when I freeze things I start to change. I should practice, though. It would be a useful skill."

"It would." Thor finished fluffing his hair dry and tossed the towel down over the chair – and both disappeared. "Come – let's leave. Mother will want to see him." He nodded towards Odin, still lying motionless.

"Why hasn't she-… Thor." He felt sick. "She didn't _hear_, did she? She wasn't with you?"

Thor shook his head. He looked kind and understanding; Loki fought the urge to jump on him and claw his eyes out. "I entered alone. No one followed me."

"How could you know that? She might have seen the whole thing."

"She did not," Thor said with certainty. "Now that I know the value of Mjolnir as a doorstop, nobody can ever disturb me when I want privacy." He held out his hand and the hammer flew to him from the hallway.

Loki eyed it. "That is useful magic."

"That is nothing. Useful magic is that Mjolnir saved your life; it's how I caught you when you-… fell. That is the most useful thing the hammer has ever done for me or ever will."

Thor seemed to be serious, and Loki told himself that the sentiment was annoying and embarrassing. "You mean when I _jumped_," he corrected, a halfhearted attempt to spoil the moment.

Thor refused to have his mood darkened. "When you slipped."

"When I let go."

"By accident. In any event that rescue was the most useful thing. And _don't _contradict me again, brother," he anticipated, and broke into a smile. "I am now your king, after all."

Not too long ago that would not have been a joke. But it since _was,_ Loki answered with a very deep and servile bow. They laughed together.

He let Thor throw an arm around him and lead him from Odin's bedroom, and occupied himself with half-serious thoughts of freezing the throne while Thor sat upon it. A frost-bitten ass ought to teach him not to tease.

* * *

That night, in their suite (they had finally given up the pretense of keeping separate quarters), once the lights were out: "Thor? In case you're worried, I swear I won't interfere with your ceremony this time. The only frost-giant in attendance will be me."

"Good, that's good. And... do you think…"

"I think you'll do very well."

"I hope so. I'm ready to try. With your help."

"Which you sound awfully confident of receiving."

"Am I wrong?"

"Hmph."

"Exactly. And… Loki? How are _you_?"

"What do you mean? I'm fine."

"_Loki_. Please tell me the truth, brother. I wish to know what goes on in that… that mind of yours. The truth."

"The truth?"

"Please."

"The truth is I am angry, and alien, and insane."

"…"

"But I think I'm doing well, brother. Better."

* * *

**The End.**

**WHEW. All done. This was absolute insanity to write, and I appreciate all your comments more than I can say. A bunch of times something you guys said would get me thinking and form the inspiration for future scenes, or even the direction of the story as a whole. I really appreciate the help.**

**And the encouragement. I'm delighted that people liked what I've written and wanted to read it. (Or were horrified by it. Or whatever.) Again, thanks so much to everyone who took the time to put thoughts down for me!**

**I suppose the biggest FAQ at the end of a story is "moar?", and the answer to that is: I have no plans to do a sequel, but it's possible a couple of one-shots may strike me at some point, and if they do I'll post them as "chapters" of this so that you can find them easily. But as of now, no plans.**

**Bye all, and thanks for reading!**


	22. Thor's Queen & Helblindi

**A/N: These are two mini-stories about what's next for Loki after Rehabilitation. One's about him in Asgard, and one's about him in Jotunheim. **

* * *

**Thor's Queen**

"Loki. I want to show you something." Thor looked determined, which often didn't bode well, so Loki set down his book and rose at once. He followed without comment, until Thor threw open the throne room doors and gestured with both arms towards the "improvement" he had made.

He had installed a queen's throne.

Loki heaved a sigh. Thor had been hinting about Jane for weeks. "Thor, you can't," he explained, in the most patient voice he possessed. "I know you think you love her, but the realm will never, ever accept a queen from Midgard. She cannot sit here beside you. You would anger too many people, and especially as a new king you cannot take that kind of risk."

Thor shook his head, laughing. "No – it's not for Jane. I do wish to visit her, as I've said, but I would not ask her to leave her home for me. It's not for Jane, brother. It's for you."

Of course. Loki recovered quickly. "Well, _I_ certainly won't be your queen," he sniffed, and then walked up to the dais to examine the addition up close. Green and gold, just his size, a little sinister-looking perhaps but why would he expect any different. (Or want it, of course.)

The piece really was beautiful. Too bad he could never sit in it. He sighed and turned to face his brother down the steps. "You know I can't have a throne, Thor. People won't like it. _Father_ most certainly won't like it; he'll probably wake up for the express purpose of throwing me off."

"Father can go hang." That struck Loki speechless, and in the silence Thor elaborated: "You have been standing at my shoulder whispering in my ear during every single meeting and audience. I wouldn't have it any other way. But I do want to honor your importance openly, and if Father for some reason is not pleased with that, then he ought to have chosen an heir who could rule without your help."

It was tempting – so tempting! – to just bow down in the face of Thor's tantrum and do as he said, but in the end Loki found himself incapable of not speaking his mind. "It's not as bad as Jane, brother, but acknowledging me as your counselor is also a risk. So let's discuss." He spun and sat down gracefully in the new throne, letting his cloak billow, and gestured for Thor to come sit in his own.

Thor laughed as he ascended the stairs. "You love it – I knew you would. That throne isn't going anywhere."

* * *

They compromised in the end by keeping the throne in the ether, close by, where Loki could call for it with a flick of his wrist. He began most mornings standing at his usual place behind the king, but when they needed to have a conversation of length he would step up and draw the chair forth to sit down in.

As he had expected there was cost involved; people began joking about _Thor's queen_ with more and more open mockery, until before long something had to be done about it.

Thor reminded everyone that disrespecting the House of Odin - kings, princes, or otherwise - was a punishable offense. He announced the warning loudly and publicly, but the whispers continued, and so eventually he had an offender arrested and dragged to the throne room in chains.

The prisoner was flung to the floor at the foot of the stairs. "As it is my brother you have wronged, it is my brother who will decide your fate," Thor said. "But know that by offending him you have also offended me. If Loki's sentence is too lenient, I will impose my own and I assure you it will not be."

Loki tried not to feel surprise. Of course Thor would leave this to him. They had decided last night to have the man terrified, flogged, and released, and though it was not the first criminal Thor had passed judgment on, it _was_ the first punishment likely to stir ugly memories and Thor hadn't particularly wanted to dwell on it. Or enact it, apparently. A king really should not be so squeamish... but lecturing him would have to wait.

Loki rose from his chair and came to the top of the stairs. "I understand you've been referring to me – a prince of this realm and the brother of your king – in a manner that is..." He laughed, shaking his head. "Not entirely respectful. _Queen Loki_, I hear? Is that true?" All at once he dropped his smile and leaned forward, staring down into the prisoner's eyes. "I will know if you lie."

The prisoner swallowed hard, and nodded yes.

"Mm." Loki straightened, turned away and began to pace the dais. "That is not my title. I wonder why you thought it was." Perhaps he could get the fool to accuse others. It would be a convenient excuse to lock away some of the court's undesirables, or at least leverage to hold over them and keep them compliant. He spun to face the prisoner. "Perhaps you'll tell me."

Eyes wide with terror, the man only stammered: "I- I didn't really… I didn't really think it… that is, my prince, it was only a joke. I swear it."

So much for using this politically. If he pressed again for names everyone would sense pretext, and he might well go from_Thor's Queen _to _The Evil Queen _in Asgard's vocabulary. So instead he said: "Ah, I adore jokes! Let us all hear it." He came partway down the steps. The prisoner shrank back, along with half the spectators, and it was suddenly so satisfying to be feared that Loki decided against something as common as a beating. "If I think it's funny, then you will leave here a rich man." He paused. "A free man." An even longer, more dire pause. He dropped his voice to a growl. "An _alive_ man." The prisoner made a sobbing noise and Loki waited for his silence before continuing, briskly: "But if your joke is _not_ funny, then I'm going to deform you. Do you understand?" More sobbing. "Now. Tell your prince... and your king... what you said."

As it turned out, it was not funny. The prisoner left with extra tongues growing out of his cheek and forehead, so that he could have extra practice in controlling them, and there was much less joking about _Thor's queen_ after that.

(Thor asked later whether the tongues would be permanent. "Of course not," Loki assured him, even though he had no idea.)

* * *

The End.

(A/N: I'm not sure that Loki is right to attribute Thor's actions to squeamishness; I think he might have just thought it polite to let Loki, as the one who has history, make the final decision in the end. Not sure though. They might discuss it someday.)

* * *

**Helblindi**

Loki was met in the snow by Helblindi, the chieftain of the frost-giants. Also, Loki's favorite.

"Greetings, child."

"Helblindi, please. How many times have I told you: _I am grown." _Until now that had always been the end of the matter, but tonight, on his fourth visit, Loki felt comfortable enough with him to go on. "Why do you insist? I don't understand your humour – are you making fun because I'm short?" He was especially short now, wearing his Aesir form.

"I meant no offense, Loki-Prince," Helblindi rumbled, and quite aside from the absurdly formal title, Loki was by now able to read amusement in the tone itself. The great blue shoulders shrugged. "I forget sometimes that you are ignorant of even basic politeness. We are blood and I am your elder. Thus I call you _child_. There is no insult."

Loki blinked. "We're blood?" He had wondered about his family, his _true _family, and more than once had thought of asking but had never quite worked up the courage. "I didn't know that," he said at last.

Helblindi seemed puzzled. "You knew Laufey. Do you not see his marks on me? He was my sire."

_You all fucking look the same to me! _Loki was fighting a sudden panic, a feeling of claustrophobia. This was his _brother._ His true brother. His own flesh and blood. This was what he _was_.

"Loki?"

"I… have not yet learned to read the subtleties of Jotun markings." It was a slow recovery but it seemed to satisfy. "It's one of the skills I hope to perfect over time. Helblindi… you're my...?" _Why didn't you tell me? _He forced a smile. "Well. It's good to know you, brother."

The red eyes narrowed. "I do not like your face when you speak the word _brother,_" he growled. "I am the eldest son of Laufey. But from you I would have another title."

Loki nodded. He and Helblindi saw eye-to-eye with disturbing regularity. "Certainly. What would it be appropriate for me to call you… here?"

"We are blood and I am your elder. You would greet me as _uncle._"

"Uncle? Even though you're not the brother of my parents? Interesting." Loki tested out the word. "Uncle."

"No." Helblindi shook his head. "I dislike _uncle _on your lips too. We will find something else."

"Hm." Loki looked him over. He did not want to be _brothers_ with this creature_, _and yet… Helblindi was not a liar, and he did look rather like Laufey come to think of it. (Although, perhaps that was because all frost-giants still looked alike. He really would have to work on differentiating them.) So they were blood, which meant that _friend _would not do – if even they were friends. "Cousin," he suggested at last. It was family, but safely distant. One could have strange cousins. (Monster cousins.)

Helblindi's lips curved gently – a smile. "Yes. Cousin."

Loki was feeling rather good about this visit so far. It was time to make the proposal he had come for. "I have the herbs you talked about," he said. "Everything you were going to go raid for." _Everything you need to restock because I injured so many of you with the Bifrost beam._ "I can give them to you."

Helblindi considered. "You cannot prevent all wars," he said at last.

"Of course not, but it's _this _war I'm concerned with right now. It's too soon; our peace is too fragile. If Asgard sees you attacking people left and right already…"

The deep voice was calm and even. "I have explained this to you: Jotunheim herself is barren. Everything we need we must fight for. It is our way."

"Most things perhaps you fight for," Loki conceded, "But _not this, _because this time you can have it without fighting. Let me make you this gift, cousin. It's a bad time for violence." _Laufey would have approved,_ he suddenly wanted to say. But for all he knew Laufey was as big a sore spot for Helblindi as Odin was for him, so perhaps it was better not to bring any old kings into the discussion. "I _have _what you need. I've got crates stacked up and ready," he coaxed instead. "I can magick them here whenever you like."

Helblindi pursed his lips. Considered. Finally nodded.

"Wonderful." The sooner this was taken care of the better, so Loki said right away: "Tell me where you want it."

A shrug. "Here."

"Here… in the courtyard?" He had been hoping for an invitation inside. The frost-giants seemed to spend most of their time beneath the stars but they must have _some _sort of indoor shelter somewhere, and he felt it was rather discourteous that he had never been allowed to see it.

Still, he was coming to learn that patience and forbearance was a large part of diplomacy, at least in Jotunheim, so Loki brought forth the gift as huge neat stacks of boxes in the snow. He touched one. "You know, I used to chew on this when I was a child," he mused. "Always. But my p-…. But everyone was always telling me that it tasted disgusting, it was for medicines only, it was not to be eaten. What does it do?"

"Had you chewed more, you would be taller." Helblindi gestured towards a smooth snow wall. "Come."

"Come where?" _Inside?_

But Helblindi had stopped at the wall, and reached out to harden the snow into smooth dark ice. "Now show yourself."

Loki no longer winced at the request. He let himself change form, and instantly his furry Aesir winter clothing was stifling and prickly and miserable, so he stripped it off.

The temperature was pleasant now, and the stars more than sufficient to see clearly by. The ice Helblindi had made gleamed – a mirror.

He understood, and drew away. "Perhaps another time," he rasped, but Helblindi might be offended, and diplomacy was important, and so he forced out an explanation. "I have… never really seen myself, cousin. I don't know this face."

"It is your own face." Helblindi was amused again, gently amused. "What sort of fool does not know his own face? Come – I will teach you about the marks you wear."

_I will teach you _was always hard to resist. Loki stepped forward and let Helblindi move him to the mirror. He held his breath.

"You will have to open your eyes, Loki-Prince."

Loki didn't, yet. "You can call me _child,_" he said instead. "It is bizarre to me, but…" _But then, so are you. _"But I'll get used to it. Very well: teach me."

He opened up, and met his own red eyes in the mirror.

* * *

The End.


	23. Family - Chapter 1

**Family **

**(So. Here is the sequel. I decided to post it here after all, because otherwise people who had alerts on Rehabilitation might not necessarily find it. I'll try to be better about making chapter names so that it isn't a gigantic non-navigable shitpile.**

**Loki will have emotional troubles in this, but as of now I don't foresee him being sent to a torture chamber again. However, the story will contain torture scenes. I'll warn for them, as usual. A basic summary of this story would be: Loki tries to find his place. Enjoy!)**

* * *

It was possibly the most enjoyable birthday Thor had ever known. He had cleared up all his work in the morning, and then Loki had taken him to swim in a fantastic waterfall (in what realm, he had no idea), and now, back home, a feast to end all feasts was unfolding.

There were many toasts, and he was very drunk. There were many women, and after the more distinguished guests had departed to leave only the young and rowdy, one of them was now pressed up against him murmuring slurred nothings into his ear. He was just about to propose that he take her to his rooms... when he remembered that they were no longer exclusively his.

"Brother." As if reading his mind, Loki was suddenly _there_, close to his other ear. "Give me five minutes."

So Thor pushed her against a column and kissed her throat, and kept her there for a while. When he finally led her upstairs, the place where the bedroom should have been was now a corridor with two doors at the end, which were ornately decorated with red and green stones. He took a moment to admire Loki's work before pushing open the red door and carrying the woman inside.

* * *

Loki sat outside in the snow, hugging his knees, watching the swirling white wind. He was a little drunk, which perhaps explained why had gotten so emotional over redecorating their bedroom a few moments ago. He had erased all traces of himself – vanishing his clothes and pillows, covering over bookcases with weapons racks, replacing sheets that smelled of his nightmare-sweat. He'd disguised the room and then made himself a dummy door that led to nothing, in case Thor's companion thought to wonder where Loki went when he and Thor vanished down the same hallway each night.

He doubted that she would wonder, though. Nobody ever wondered about Loki. Or would miss him.

The sudden tightness in his chest made him laugh aloud. "Idiot," he said fondly. It was an old childhood fantasy: he would pack up and disappear, leaving the family to weep and rend their clothes and wail about how _sorry_ they were that they had never appreciated little Loki properly when they had him.

An old idea, a silly idea that had no place in his life now, not when he really _was_ valued and appreciated for perhaps the first time ever. He knew that. Still, erasing himself had been a strange experience and he was still feeling a little bit raw, and decided he shouldn't rejoin the party until he was finished calming down.

Time passed, the night was lovely, but eventually over the distant sounds of feasting he heard someone trudging towards him through the snow

Instantly he was on his feet with a ball of power in his hand... but it was only Fandral and he relaxed. He threw up a hand in greeting.

Fandral waved back. "Ho, Loki. There you are."

"No - Thor's up in our-... up in his room," Loki said. "With a girl."

"I know. There _you_ are, I said. I'm not looking for Thor." He gestured to a nearby tree that would provide some shelter, and even though Loki preferred sitting under the stars, when Fandral asked "Mind?" he shrugged and went to it.

They sat down together and Fandral brushed snow from their hair and shoulders. His fussing was unusually coordinated for this hour, and it seemed that most of the flush on his cheeks was from the cold. "You're not drunk," Loki observed.

Fandral laughed. "No. I decided to keep my head clear tonight to make sure our king didn't make too big a fool of himself at his first royal birthday party."

Loki had been doing much the same thing. Pity; if only they'd coordinated their efforts they could perhaps have worked in shifts. "I think he acquitted himself well."

"Thanks to you. Nice work with that drinking horn."

Loki acknowledged with a nod and just hoped the subject would pass quickly. Watching people clustered around Thor urging him to drink longer and harder, to drain draft after draft... even though it was all in fun Loki hadn't liked it, and he had begun vanishing liquid out the back end of the horn while Thor gulped away at the front.

"No one else noticed the cheating," Fandral added. "Only me, as I was the one in charge of monitoring His Majesty's drinking. Soberly."

He hoped Thor appreciated what good friends he had. "You did a fine job. Now, why did you come looking for me?"

Even in the poor light Loki caught a look of consternation flashing over the handsome face. "Ahh... no reason. We noticed you weren't in the hall, and I started to worry."

"Don't try lying to the liesmith," Loki snapped, but then felt bad, and conjured a warm breeze as reparations. "Why?"

"Mmmm." Fandral relaxed in the heat.

"Tell me why." The reluctance meant that it must be unpleasant.

Fandral sighed. Ran a hand through his hair. "Listen, Loki, it was all in fun," he began.

"An auspicious beginning to any explanation."

But the warrior was not so easily bullied. "Ah, quiet down," he laughed. "Listen. Sif was drunk and lusty. We'd all started teasing her about laying with this man or that man, or this army or that army, and eventually with all the men of the realm at once."

"... And then with all the _beasts_ of the realm, and then, scandal of scandals, even with a frost-giant," Loki guessed. He knew there was no malice in it and he did his best to shrug it off.

"In substance, yes. Which reminded us that we had not seen _you_ for a little while, so I, as the most sober, came looking."

"Thanks for your concern, but as you see, I am fine." He looked back out at the snow. "Thor's up there with a girl, as I said, so I've come out here to sulk. That's all."

There was a long silence, and eventually he glanced over to see Fandral looking at him with a very odd expression on his face. "What?"

"Loki... You don't mean...? Forgive me, but there's no delicate way to ask. You and Thor?"

"Me and Thor...?" It actually took Loki a moment to realize what he must be talking about. When he did understand, his silver tongue deserted him completely and he began to sputter almost without words. "I, I- you- _What?_" he managed at last. "He's my brother!"

Fandral's hands rose in apology. "All right all right, I thought not of course, I'm sorry, it's just, you know, there was all that_Thor's queen _business, and you said you're out here sulking because..."

"Because I've been evicted from my bedroom so that Thor can fuck!"

"All right, all right." Fandral was still making soothing gestures. "I'm sorry. Look, you did move in to his room the moment you learned you weren't his blood relation. And since then he won't come wenching with us, because he _has to get home to Loki_. So when you said..." He waved it off. "Never mind. All right?"

Loki buried his hands in his hair and tugged. The headache helped. Thor was an idiot – and so was he. This was what came of being too secretive. "I have nightmares," he explained shortly, staring at his lap. "That's why I don't sleep alone."

"Oh."

He had to laugh. "You people didn't really think...?"

Fandral winced. "Sorry. I mean for all we know it's normal... you know... where you come from."

Loki couldn't remember the last time he was simultaneously this exasperated and this amused. "No, I'm afraid that is not normal _anywhere_ that I know of. And for your information Jotunheim doesn't practice monogamous pair-bonding at all. Much less with a close family member. Ugh."

"Who said it had to be monogamous?"

Loki rolled his eyes, by now much more amused than exasperated.

It was quiet for a moment, and then Fandral said: "This is going to sound all sorts of wrong now, but: do you want to come up to my room?"

"Fandral!"

"To _sleep_! To sleep," he assured fast, laughing. "In separate beds. I just meant that if you can't be alone..."

Now that he thought a little harder about it, sitting up all night in the snow was not really a very good plan. "I appreciate the offer." He made a face. "Unless it will start more rumours?"

Fandral climbed to his feet and offered Loki a hand up. "I think there are rumours about me and half the people of Asgard."

Loki let himself be pulled to standing before answering: "It's well more than half."

"And I'm sure you step in to defend my honor every time you hear one."

"Certainly – when I'm not too busy fucking Thor."

Fandral apologized almost all the way to his bedroom.

* * *

Thor woke up to the worst headache he could remember since crashing to the unforgiving rock of Midgard from the sky. There was a foul taste in his mouth and his stomach was roiling.

He recognized it all as the aftereffects of drinking, but couldn't yet remember the drinking itself. He groped blindly in the darkness for his curtains.

Before he could find them the darkness lifted all by itself, and there was Loki, sitting on the edge of the bed reading. "You have rejoined the land of the living, brother," Loki laughed softly.

Thor tried to get out of bed, but felt so sick he went to his knees on the carpet instead.

The carpet was unfamiliar.

He looked around more carefully and realized that the room was all wrong - the bookshelves were gone, the decorations different. "Where am I?"

"You're at home. I'll take the illusion off now - I worried the magic would wake you." Loki stood and waved his arms in a big complicated pattern, and the room sparkled and melted away into its usual form. Loki's clothes everywhere, his books, his armor. When he was done he turned back and smiled with unusual gentleness. "Do you remember anything about last night? Your birthday party?"

"Oh." The birthday party had been wonderful. He'd left with a woman... and Loki had dashed on ahead to remake the room for him. "I remember. I had not planned to drink as much as I did." There had been a reason he'd planned to be careful. His head pounded. "Oh-! I have an audience. Ambassadors from Alfheim. At eleven. I cannot..."

"It's already two in the afternoon. Calm down – I took care of it for you."

"Gods." Thor covered his face, pressing hard against his eyes to try and control the spearing pains in his skull. "What did you tell them?"

"In a minute. First, look at me." Loki sat back down on the bed, laid hands on the sides of his head, and murmured some spell.

It felt like the brains were being scooped out of his skull and shaken. Thor grit his teeth so as not to scream, and didn't, and afterwards the pounding faded to a dull faraway throb. "Thank you, brother."

Loki scowled. "It's not perfect. Sorry. Drink is a singularly difficult malady to cure. How's your stomach?"

In response his stomach clenched up and began to heave. Frantic swallowing prevented anything from coming up, but he shook his head. "Ill."

Loki did something for that too, and although Thor didn't feel entirely well afterwards, he was able to get up out of bed and dress. "What happened this morning? And how on earth did I sleep so long – what did I drink?"

"I don't know – you weren't nearly this bad when we left you. The woman who accompanied you swears you sent her away without explanation and reached for a bottle, and that is all anyone knows until we found you this morning."

Ah, yes. He remembered now. The room had felt _wrong_ without Loki in it, and it had occurred to him that Loki had given up his own sleeping-place for the sake of his brother's amusements. He had felt so guilty and drunkenly overwrought that he'd bid the woman goodnight and consumed the better part of a bottle of hard Elvish liquor instead, weeping into his pillows about brotherly love. "I was feeling introspective," he said, in a tone meant to discourage questions.

Oddly, Loki didn't pry. All he said was: "I see," and then rose to begin pacing. "So: about the audience. Please don't be angry."

His stomach knotted. "What did you tell them?"

"I didn't tell them anything." Loki passed a hand over his face and suddenly Thor was looking into a mirror. "I appeared as you and handled all the business myself." Another swipe of his hand and he was Loki again. "You know I would never impersonate you without your permission, Thor, but you were completely unconscious and they would have been gravely insulted if you didn't come. I swear to you I didn't do anything, _anything_ that-"

"Loki." Thor held his hand up. "It's fine. I trust you." A great deal of tension went out of Loki's body at that, which Thor_hated_, because it meant that after all these months of calm and restraint and not a single explosion, Loki still worried that he might lose his temper at a moment's notice. Did he not deserve better by now? How long until he had proved himself matured?

Still, he knew that Loki had been given much reason to distrust in his life, and so he only clapped him on the shoulder. "And I thank you as well, brother, for I do not think I would have negotiated wisely in my condition this morning." He smiled. "So. Tell me about the audience. What matters were discussed?"

Loki looked, if anything, even more uncomfortable. "Well. There was one matter I did not resolve – I said I needed time for reflection. We have to talk about it. I didn't know what to do."

"Of course." Loki had never sought advice in this way before. Thor tried to draw himself up and look more like a king and less like a sick vagabond. "What matter?"

"An Elvish princess was kidnapped," Loki recounted shortly. "With the help of an Asgardian. He was captured, but he would not tell where the girl has been taken. It was proposed that we have him interrogated. Hard."

* * *

**TBC.**


	24. Family - Chapter 2

**Family - Chapter 2.**

**(I decided to post the sequel here after all, because otherwise people who had alerts on Rehabilitation might not necessarily find it. I'll try to be better about making chapter names so that it isn't a gigantic non-navigable shitpile.**

**Loki will have emotional troubles in this, but as of now I don't foresee him being sent to a torture chamber again. However, the story will contain torture scenes. I'll warn for them, as usual. A basic summary of this story would be: Loki tries to find his place. Enjoy!)**

* * *

Thor swallowed several times. "That is out of the question," he said.

"Not so fast, Thor. We have to talk about it, I said. So let's talk."

"Loki. I will never…" He shook his head. He could not bring himself to say it – he never could. They only ever talked about Loki's ordeal obliquely and with euphemisms like _when I went away _or _the wounds you bore_.

Loki chose this time of all others to be more direct. "I imagine you're thinking that after having been broken on the rack myself I cannot want to see it used on other people. Yes?"

Thor walked to the window and drew the curtains closed. He leaned against the wall with a sigh of relief – the sunlight still felt harsh on his drink-abused head. "I think that neither of us could sleep soundly after ordering such cruelty," he said at last. "It was sickening to see. I cannot imagine what it must have been to…" he shook his head.

Fortunately Loki did not give him any details. Instead he shrugged and said lightly: "Ah. Well. You don't have to see this time, and I don't have to experience." He crawled up on the bed to sit against the headboard, hugging his knees. "In fact I think the less thinking about it we do, the better."

"But you would order it." Thor felt ill, and wondered if he could fairly blame the drink for this as well. "You would send one of our people to that place." His voice was cracking.

His brother seemed annoyed by the emotion. "Before you go showering this fool with your sympathy," Loki snapped, "You might want to remember what he did to get himself in this position in the first place. You can't go around kidnapping people's princesses."

"So he _deserves _it, is what you're saying?"Thor shook his head, reproachful. "Loki. You of all people."

He had meant only to remind Loki that that was the selfsame reasoning Odin had employed with such terrible consequences. He meant that there could be _no _justification for treating a prisoner in that way. Loki ought to have taken it for a show of support.

Instead he took it precisely the wrong way, and exploded. "Me? Me of all people _what_?" he repeated, breathless and wild. "I, I'm so _evil _that how dare I stand in judgment over anyone? How could _any _crime shock me! Is that it?" He half-flew down from the bed and crossed the room, to snarl from a distance of six inches away. "_Is it?_"

"No! No – not at all." He did his best to be conciliatory. "I meant only that what you-"

"_Enough_, Thor!" Loki barked. "Be silent. You have _no idea_ what you're talking about – any of it."

Though he knew he did not deserve such anger and disdain, Thor breathed slowly and did not let his temper rise. "I know that you are scarred," he said instead. "_I _am scarred as well. We cannot inflict that horror on other people."

"Oh, stop it," Loki spat, lip curled. "Don't be so dramatic. I'm _fine._"

"Fine?" Thor let out a laugh of shock. "You're not fine. Look at you."

"I said I'm fine – leave off!" He was nearly shouting. "It was nothing. It was a, an unpleasant couple of days, all right, I got hurt, wonderful, it happens to all of us and it's _over _and I am _fine._ Don't you dare tell me I'm scarred. If I tell you all is well with me it fucking _is,_ do you hear me?" Thor opened his mouth to answer, but Loki cut him off and repeated: "Enough, Thor. Conversation is _over._"

"Very well." He was still determined to accept his brother's bad mood without retaliation, but still, he had to point out: "But Loki, remember, you did ask for my opinion."

"Well I don't want it anymore."

Thor laughed again, harsher, and answered too quickly. "That is unfortunate, as I'm the king and my opinion is the one that matters."

Loki froze.

Thor winced, but before he could retract what he'd said Loki was speaking up. "Yes… you are, aren't you." It was soft and bitter, and the smile that accompanied it was painful to see.

"Loki – wait." He took one step closer, but stopped when Loki backed away. "Please. Brother, you know I didn't mean that…"

Loki went to the door silently, his face completely closed off. Before he left he clapped a fist to his chest and bowed.

* * *

The door had not even closed behind him yet and already Loki was admitting: _That was cruel. _

But he was still angry enough to feel delighted about it. He _knew _his anger was partly because he hadn't slept (Fandral's spare bed was no substitute for the safety of Thor's embrace) and he was a little hung over and a little worried, and because it really _wasn't _fun to contemplate what the elves wanted him to do. But Thor was just making him angrier and angrier. That look of reproach, bordering on disgust. _You would send one of our people to that place? _His obstinacy. And then, worst of all, his _pity, _the awful pity that shamed Loki now and yet hadn't done a damn thing to help him in the dungeon.

Well. Given all that, anger was justified to some degree at least, and Loki certainly wasn't about to go back in and make peace. Instead, he went to the library, the place everyone knew to look for the prince when he brooded. This time, though, rather than curling up with a book in his favorite chair, he conjured parchment and composed a note.

_Your Majesty. _He tore it up: too mean.

_Thor. _ No, that would not do either: too familiar, condescending even.

_Brother. _Good.

Loki chewed his pen. He decided against something long and conciliatory; he was unable to do it without sarcasm. It was a closer call, but he also decided against something about _visiting my people _that would tear at Thor's heart, because he really _did _want to leave for a few days and didn't want to spend them feeling guilty. Then he thought of writing something practical, about the Elvish princess, because they really did need to think of what to do… but he didn't _know_ what they should do. (Other than, of course, prize the information out of their prisoner.) Eventually he gave up on saying anything at all, and wrote only: _Brother: I'm going to Jotunheim for a few days. I'll see you when I return. Loki._

* * *

Loki arrived a bit outside the palace. Helblindi wouldn't be expecting him and the last thing he wanted was to traipse around alone looking like the enemy, so he changed form and vanished his clothes before coming any closer.

The buzzing in his ears quieted immediately, his pounding pulse slowed to a crawl, even the tight headache of rage was dulling. Loki waited to feel horrible again, holding his breath... but it did not happen. He felt better. He didn't want to admit it, but the truth was inescapable: the change had felt _good._

He didn't push his luck by trying to look down at himself and not recoil. Instead he just walked around in the snow, meandering easily towards the gates, making ice and sliding it between his fingers as he brooded. (It felt natural – had he stumbled on a Jotun nervous gesture, perhaps? He would have to ask.)

Thor was infuriating. Thor thought he knew better. Thor never listened, and there was nothing anybody could do about it because _Thor was king._

If they did everything in their power and still the girl died, Alfheim would be upset. But if Thor refused to investigate as Alfheim wished and_then _the girl died... Alfheim would be apoplectic. There would be crisis. There would be retribution. There might even be war.

"Loki-Prince!" His brooding was interrupted by a frost-giant up ahead. Loki squinted into the swirling white wind.

"Er-? Greetings!" he called back. He followed the shadowy figure to the shelter of a wall. Only then was he certain: "Cousin."

"You did not know me." Helblindi was amused. "Do you know me now?"

"It's-... dark and snowy out here," he protested, feeling stupid. _Dark and snowy _on Jotunheim. That would be like telling people at home: _but the air is full of air here!_ He frowned. "How did you know it was me?"

"Everyone with sense is indoors when the snows are coming. A wanderer was seen, and I knew it must be you."

"Or some other long-lost brother you never knew about." Loki smiled.

Helblindi returned an amused huff, before asking: "Why have you come? You were not expected."

"I know. This isn't a, a diplomatic visit. I just-... Do you mind if I stay a couple of days? I won't be in your way." He made himself give an explanation. "Thor and I quarreled."

Helblindi frowned. "Your Asgardian has exiled you?"

"No, no, nothing like that," Loki assured quickly. Wondering if he was imagining a note of indignation in the rasp, indignation on his behalf. "It's only, I'd prefer someone else's company to his right now. Anyone's, really."

"Be welcome." Helblindi turned to walk away, and Loki followed him. Thor would have been demanding to know every little detail of the argument, but the Jotuns asked not word of explanation for the next three days. Loki lounged with them in their splendid ice-caves, repairing armor and listening to stories and helping complain about the storm, and not once did anyone ask what he was hiding from.

Finally, though, he had had enough of distraction, and it was time to tackle the problem. He thanked the giant who was showing him how to hammer out dents with ice, and approached the throne where Helblindi sat sewing.

"Can I... talk to you a minute?"

Helblindi inclined his head.

"And do you mind if I-...?" Loki gestured vaguely to his face. Again the giant didn't object, so he shifted form and pulled warm clothing from the ether. He felt more comfortable now, more _himself,_ and he cleared his throat and began talking.

It was rather like talking without an audience: there was no interruption at all as Loki explained that he had once been locked away and tortured because the Allfather had had doubts about his loyalty, and that this had upset Thor, and that it had turned Thor soft, and-...

He stopped talking abruptly, when he remembered that he _did _have an audience, and that it was someone who could potentially be an enemy someday, and that he should not be talking about Thor's weaknesses in front of an enemy. He swallowed. But it made no sense to leave the story half-told. "And now he won't use the dungeon on others, even though we need it," he finished up.

Helblindi looked back down to the leather he was working on. "You say it turned the Odinson soft … but it did not do the same to _you_."

Loki watched him punch holes with an awl – directly against his own leg, which appeared immune to puncture wounds. The frost-giants likely had different views of what constituted softness. "It didn't make me softer than I was already, anyway."

Helblindi glanced up to see him watching, and chuckled. "Has no one taught you to sew?"

"Someone wanted to. One of your... women." He used the term very, very loosely. "But to be honest I was afraid to try."

"You should not try now, not as you are. The Aesir form is very weak." The giant did not even look up from his work. "I could tear pieces off you with my bare hands. I do not see why anyone needed a dungeon. Are you well again?"

Concern? Contempt? He couldn't tell. "Snows have fallen," Loki said at last. It was their way of saying _water under the bridge,_ a phrase which had no meaning in a realm of eternal winter. "But apparently Thor is still worried about me. He thinks I must find the thought upsetting. Thinks I'm _scarred_."

"Mm. You need not have quarreled with him over it, child."

Helblindi was still calm, and ponderous... and _lecturing _him. Loki's back rose. "The Odinson is quick to quarrel. As well you know."

"_All_ Aesir are quick to quarrel." This time Loki thought he heard disdain, and as the giant punched the awl through leather and into his lap again, hard, it seemed he was making a point.

So Loki made a point of his own: he bent and, without taking Jotun form, raised a column of ice to sit on opposite the throne. It was not easy, but his sorcery was _good, _and he could tell from Helblindi's glance that he had impressed.

"I wear this form by choice, cousin," he said, with a bit of an edge. He did not add: _Don't disparage it._

But clearly Helblindi took his meaning. "There is no insult in what is true," he said mildly. Then he cocked his head. "Perhaps you would do well to remember that the next time the Odinson offers you his sympathy."

Loki's mouth opened and then closed again. If they knew one another a little better he might have snarled _I hate it when you're right,_ but rather than risk a diplomatic incident he only scowled and stopped arguing.

It _was _true, what Thor had said. Using the dungeon would be ugly and distressing. The idea that he had insisted otherwise now seemed ridiculous – no wonder Thor had treated him like a child.

So, it was time to reframe his argument. Of _course_ it would be distressing, he would say. But that did not mean it must never be done. Alfheim's princess, Alfheim's rules. By now it was likely too late to actually save the girl, so the best they could do was make a show of cooperating with the ambassadors in every way possible. It was terrible cruelty, he would agree, but it was necessary in order to keep things calm for the realm. They would step up as king and prince and do their duty.

Helblindi was still watching him calmly. "Thank you, cousin," Loki told him at last. "For your wisdom." He rose and backed away from the throne, then went down to a knee to give a full (Asgardian!) salute. "I'm going to return home now."

Helblindi made him a farewell gesture – one of the warmer ones, if he understood properly – and went back to his work. Loki went out the door to leave. The snows were truly falling now, and in the two seconds it took him to open the ether and go, he froze half to death and decided that perhaps the giants were right about the Aesir form after all.

* * *

It was light in Asgard when Loki returned. A nice afternoon. He headed out to the training yard because he assumed Thor would be there letting off steam after his morning's duties.

But the yard was almost deserted – there was only Fandral, hacking away halfheartedly at a practice dummy.

"Fandral," he called, and made to wave.

Fandral whirled to face him, dropped his sword, and _dashed _over. "Loki! Finally – we were so worried. What happened?"

He stepped away from the grabby clutchy arms that seemed to be trying to _hug _him. "What? Nothing happened, I'm _fine._" He was beginning to find it insulting, the implication that he ran such great danger going to Jotunheim because those mindless _savages _might just _eat _him when they tired of his company.

But Fandral was oblivious to his irritation. "Good, great, then where's Thor?" he continued in a rush. "I'm going to wring his neck, and yours – you can't both go off like that, your mother was worried _sick _and Sif's on the warpath and the petitions are piling up and-"

"Thor?" Loki frowned. "Thor's not with me. We-... we argued. I took a few days in Jotunheim with-, a few days to cool off, as it were. I left him here. He's not here?"

Fandral shook his head. "We thought he was with you."

"Well... This is annoying." It was _only_ annoying, he told himself firmly. He was not worried, not at all. Finally Loki got his thoughts in order. "I left him a note in the library, I thought that's where he'd look for me first," he said. "Send somebody to check if it's still there. I suppose we both must have just left for a bit, each assuming the other would stay and hold down the fort. I'm sure that's all it is – and I apologize, it won't happen again. Next time I'll ask his permission in person. Now _go._"

He told himself that everything was fine. Thor was surrounded by friends and protectors every waking moment – and certainly no one could have taken him in his sleep, because Loki had personally laid the protective magicks over their bedroom himself. Strong and excellent spells. No one but Thor (or a very, very powerful sorcerer... rather like some of the ones Loki had met in Jotunheim recently…) could even enter the room.

Of _course _everything was fine, he told himself. Of course.

* * *

**TBC. Dun-dun-dun! Cliffhanger!**

**(Don't worry, there won't be many of these. I'm not going to switch genres on you and give you a crazy plotty adventure story. We'll find Thor next chapter.)**

**Let me know what you think!**


	25. Family - Chapter 3

**A/N: Squeamish people, take heart: I'm not planning to have much violence onscreen this time.**

**Dungeon-lovers, take heart as well. I'll probably post the torture section as a side story at some point, in case you do want to read it. I sketched out most of it already so that I know what happens, which is why this chapter took so long to post.**

**Also, there's vague/implicit Thor/Sif here in the background, but I don't think it really qualifies as a pairing. I'm not even sure they're together anymore. But they might have been at one point.**

* * *

Loki went straight for their bedroom and checked the door, but his spells were firmly in place. That was good, at least. He opened the door and the room was tidy. Didn't appear to have been attacked or ransacked. That was good too.

What was bad was that there was a note left on his bed... and laying across it, gleaming in the reddish afternoon sunlight, was Gungnir.

He approached the bed carefully. A trick? A trap? He swept magic over it and decided that nothing was the matter with the staff at all, which made him seethe because what in the Nine did Thor think he was doing leaving such a dangerous treasure lying around unprotected. He reached for it himself...

But stopped half an inch away. What if it had been left there as some kind of test?

After a moment Loki realized that that was a stupid thought. Thor was not Odin; he had neither the desire to test Loki nor the ability to do it cleverly.

Maybe he had just... forgotten how dangerous the thing could be? But even Thor could not have been so careless. Loki nudged the staff out of the way with magic and pulled out the note to read.

**_Loki -_**

**_I am sorry we quarreled. Forgive me. You were right._**

**_I have gone, but I expect to return within a week or two. In the meantime, rule as you see fit – either as yourself, or under illusion as me if you prefer. I have complete faith in you._**

_######### ####### #### ##### ####### ####### #####_  
_###### ######## ######## ##### ##### ######## #### ###_  
_### ########## ######### ##########_

**_- Thor_**

Loki frowned at the crossed-off paragraph. Perhaps Thor had gone hunting to clear his head, or maybe gone to Midgard for the comfort of his woman.

But he never hunted without his friends, and he had no way of getting to Midgard – no way of getting almost _anywhere _on his own until the Bifrost was repaired. His feeling of foreboding growing, Loki used magic to erase the scribbles and see what his brother had deleted.

**_This is something I must do. As you love me – and as you love Asgard, which deserves better than a king who rules in ignorance – do not interfere._**

Loki stared at the note for a bit. _You were right. Something I must do. _He willed another explanation to present itself...

But there was none. What had happened was plain: after being chastised for making his decisions in ignorance, Thor had gone and out of some misguided guilty sense of duty consigned himself to a dungeon to experience its horrors firsthand.

After the things he had seen... _how?_

Loki snarled aloud. "Thor, you _fool_."

He stormed into the hallway to go stop him...

And then realized he had no idea where he was going. He didn't know where the dungeon was; he vaguely remembered being led down to a portal deep in the bowels of the castle, nursing an unpleasant cocktail of hate and self-pity (and trying to avoid fear), but he had no idea what level or what wing or what corridor he had been taken to. He remembered that it had been a very long walk.

He also remembered suddenly that the Drones had opened it by a magic he didn't recognize, and that worried him, but on the other hand if Thor had managed to get in it couldn't be all that complicated.

He would have to ask directions from someone who knew, or someone in whom Thor might have confided. Outside of himself that was a very short list, so he sent guards to fetch Thor's mother and his silly friends, and ordered everyone brought to Heimdall's post so all the questioning could be conducted at once.

* * *

Loki arrived first. He didn't even bother with a greeting; he just rapped Gungnir on the ground and demanded: "Where is Thor."

Heimdall regarded him coolly. "You know where Thor has gone."

So much for any last lingering hope that his guess had been wrong.

"Yes, but since I don't know where it is or how to get there, I need you to tell me. Now." He tried to sound less hostile. "It's for Thor's own safety."

"The king has explicitly forbidden me to direct anyone – especially you – to the place where he has gone."

Loki banged the staff again, trying not to feel like a child having a tantrum. "I rule in Asgard right now, whether I like it or not, and you _will_obey me!"

"I will obey my king," Heimdall corrected, cold. "And while Thor yet lives, he is still my king."

"While he lives, what does that mean, while he lives?" Loki could hear his own voice rising. "Can you see him now?"

"Of course."

"Well... well where is he?" Loki sputtered, and then corrected himself. "Or at least, how is he? Tell me that. Is he well? Has he really…-"

The doors flew open, to admit Sif and the Idiots Three. "What's going on, Loki?" she called before she even got in speaking distance. "What are you doing summoning us like servants, and where's Thor?"

He looked her over and decided that her confusion and anger were genuine. "You tell me," he said at last. "I came home to find Thor gone, and a letter on my pillow." He hated to share it, but on the other hand he had to protect himself. Perhaps _I have complete faith in you _in Thor's own hand would help take the suspicion from Sif's eyes.

So he held out the note. They clustered around it, reading with varying degrees of slowness, and Loki grew so impatient that he began to pace.

"My son." Frigga in the doorway, brow dark. "What has happened?"

"Mother." Loki came and kissed her hands. "I'm afraid Thor's gone and done something stupid. Do you know where he is?"

She shook her head. "He came to discuss the Elvish princess with me. He was... troubled. But he didn't say why – he said he would handle things with Alfheim first, and then talk to me about what had upset him later. He never returned." She held him by the shoulders and looked hard into his eyes. "I thought he might have gone looking for the girl himself. But that's not it, is it. What happened?"

He couldn't, _couldn't _tell her. It would only worry her, uselessly as there was nothing she could do. Besides it might not yet be too late, he would not _let _it be too late, _nothing _awful could have happened to Thor yet. It wasn't their way to start in quickly; he knew that. He was _sure._

"Thor's just being Thor, but I will stop him before he comes to harm," he told Frigga firmly. "In the meantime, can you keep everything together for me? Host at meals, lead at counsel, that sort of thing? You can just tell them that the king-"

"Loki." She put a finger to his lips. "I _kept everything together _while your father slept for years upon years. I'll handle Asgard. You handle your brother." She turned to Thor's friends and, radiating power, ordered: "You'll cooperate with Loki in any way he tells you. No foolish questions, no hesitations, no defiance. Is that clear?"

The Warriors all mumbled _Yes my lady _and bowed. Sif gave her awkward court curtsey.

Loki watched with raised eyebrows as she swept away. "Thank you, Mother," he muttered, loudly enough to be heard. "That doesn't undermine my authority at all."

As he'd hoped, Fandral and Volstagg snickered. They were on his side – or as near as anyone ever was. Even Sif looked less hostile than usual. She crossed her arms and just prompted: "So?"

Loki hesitated.

"Loki?" Fandral's voice was gentle. "You know something you're not telling us. It's time."

Even Hogun – _Hogun – _spoke up. "We can be more useful if we know what's going on," he pointed out.

So he beckoned them closer. Put his back to Heimdall, because even though Heimdall would hear them anyway, it was hard to talk under his cold mistrustful eyes. "After the Bifrost broke," he began, then stopped. He didn't, _didn't _want to say...

"You were taken away and you had your limbs ripped from their sockets," Sif supplied. "You told me."

He nodded and looked around at the others. "You all remember what I looked like when I returned. I think Thor has gone where I was. I think he has some idea that... that he should… suffer." How had he not foreseen this? Thor had been _itching _to do this; he had said it straight out. _I am willing to suffer for you, if it will help. _Loki drew himself up. "We need to go and pull him out before he does."

"Why would he go and do something like that?" Fandral mused aloud.

"How should I know the reason for any of Thor's stupidity?" Loki snapped, but realized immediately that denials would not help him win any more trust. "We had an argument and I, ah, I may have used the phrase _you don't know what you're talking about,"_ he admitted after a moment. "But I meant for him to shut up! Not to go and actually _learn_."

Sif let out an angry huff, but Fandral glared at her. "Not your fault," he told Loki firmly.

"Aye. That's just Thor." Volstagg patted him almost hard enough to knock him over. "Chin up, Loki, we'll get him. You've been to this place?" Loki nodded. "Wonderful! Then you can lead the attack."

* * *

It took Loki far longer than it should have to dissuade the Idiots from assembling an army. He made the political argument (Odin has a relationship with the place and it seems to be a neutral facility; assaulting it might make Asgard some enemies) and they did not care. He made the danger argument – as carefully as he could, but still Fandral put an arm around him with sickening care and promised _we won't let anything happen to you_. Finally he hit on the winner: "Would you start a fight in a china shop – with Thor as the china?" he snarled. "He could be in a position of vulnerability the likes of which none of you can imagine. If we annoy them, if we _distract _them even, something truly gruesome could happen to him. A battle is not the answer. I _forbid _you to start one."

Volstagg grumbled, "I like Thor's orders better; there's _always _a battle in there somewhere," but they did not argue further.

Next they tried again to talk to Heimdall, but the guardian could stonewall like none other and they soon gave up. At that point, Loki was (temporarily!) out of ideas. He recounted what he remembered about the portal and sent the warriors to start searching, while he retired to his room to think.

He knew the search would be useless. There was a vast network of tunnels beneath the castle and the city; hunting through it would take days at least. Too long to wait – Thor was strong and fearless and he laughed at pain, and at times he seemed practically indestructible, but still... eventually they would hurt him. And then what? He had insisted he was scarred already, and at the time Loki had scoffed but now he found himself worrying. _Thor wasn't lying_, he realized, remembering his face. _And he wasn't being melodramatic either, because how often does Thor profess feelings to win sympathy? _Even when they were children, Loki had been unable to teach him how to manufacture tears.

So he really _had _been affected – and that was before. Once he _really _understood what he had allowed he would be inconsolable. As well as physically wrecked.

Loki's brooding was eventually interrupted by a soft knock.

"Enter." He realized too late that he was slouched in a chair with his clothes hanging open and his hair wild; hardly kingly. He made efforts to sit up straight and look fine until he recognized: "Sif." He relaxed at once – she already knew he was not fine.

"I brought you soup. You haven't eaten."

Very sweet of her – except one sniff told him she didn't know the first thing about his food preferences. "Thank you. Did you want to talk to me?" When she nodded, he indicated a chair and made an effort to choke down a few bites to be polite. "So. How goes the search?"

"Not good. It's almost a labyrinth, and many of the doors are sealed with magic so we can't even break them down. And nobody has a full set of keys or maps. There are stairs under stairs under stairs, levels that we have no idea what they're for. Only Heimdall and Odin really know this place. It would take us weeks. Maybe longer." She drew in a slow breath. "We need a new plan."

She had thought of one already, he could see. So he nodded. "Go on."

"I..." She lowered her eyes to the floor. "Could you wake the Allfather?" she asked at last. Softly.

He realized she must mean to ask if he had _caused _the Odinsleep, if he had spelled Odin into dormancy himself and might lift the curse if he was petitioned politely enough.

Flattering, in a way. He supposed. "The sleep is not my doing and I don't know how to disrupt it," he told her shortly.

She nodded. "Still. Could you try to talk to him? He may listen to you. You're his son."

Loki chuckled – unpleasantly, even to his own ears.

Sif pressed on stubbornly. (No wonder she and Thor made such a good match!) "Please try. I know the Allfather intimidates, but Thor is in danger – and I know he would do the same for you."

"Of course he would." Slow and soft and venomous. _Why are you telling her so much_? He made himself sit up and smile. "Very well, I'll knock on Odin's door."

"I'll come with you," she said at once.

"To watch over my shoulder?"

She frowned. "To watch your _back, _Loki. To confirm your words if anyone doubts you."

He still didn't trust her. She surely still didn't trust him. But Loki really didnot want to go alone to Odin's chamber and tell him: _wake up, because your son is off somewhere being killed by inches. Just as I threatened. _

"Of course," he said. "Forgive me, it's been a difficult day."

He had not been to see Odin at all since the sleep started, even though he knew it made his mother sad. But for this he made himself go. With Sif at his side, he stood in the bedroom and even approached the bed, and shook Odin with his hands and with his magic. Told him of Thor's stupidity. Asked him – bitterly – if he would awaken to save him. Again.

But Odin didn't stir, and after an hour they gave it up. "Go to bed," he told Sif. "We'll think of a better plan in the morning."

She clasped her hands behind her back. "Fandral says one of us has to stay with you," she said. He had _just _started to go cold with mortification when she added: "With Thor gone you're all Asgard has. You have to be protected. I see you don't like it, and in truth I'm not delighted either, but for the good of the realm we'll just suck it up. I can sleep on the floor and I don't snore – you'll hardly even notice me."

He mentally promoted Fandral from the _idiot _category in his mind and nodded at her. "All right, come with me. I'll make you a bed."

Rather than send her to trek home he made her a nightgown too, something modest, but she shook her head and asked for one of Thor's tunics instead. He handed one over, doing his best not to feel possessive, and bid her goodnight politely. But he was annoyed – and his annoyance grew as she began tossing and turning in bed. The rustling was incessant. Eventually he growled: "I see why you don't snore. You never actually fall asleep."

She froze. "I'm sorry. I'll be quieter."

"Try," he sneered, but soon felt bad and admitted: "It's not you disturbing me. I'm..."

"Worried." Silence a moment. "So am I." He heard her shift again, so that she was facing his direction. "Loki? Was it really...? Tell me."

"Are you asking to hear about it?" He slammed doors in his mind, and managed not to think of anything that disturbed him. He chuckled. "_That_ certainly won't help you get to sleep. Shall I tell you a story instead?" He did not offer to soothe her with magic; he would only get _No, I don't trust you_ in response.

"No." He heard her sit up. "_You're _the one going to be planning – I should be telling _you _a story." Then he heard her smile. "I'd offer to sing you a lullaby, but... well... you've heard me sing."

"Oh, is that what that was?" The sight of Sif on a tavern table belting out bawdy love ballads would never leave him. Thor's birthday parties were _always _wonderful. "Yes, no lullaby, please."

He listened to her shift restlessly a while longer. "Loki?" she said at last.

"Still awake."

"Oh."

She seemed about to speak again, but didn't. He tried to figure out what she was going to say, what she was thinking, and suddenly felt sorry for her. She was desperately worried. Even her demand to wrap herself in Thor's clothing was no longer irritating, only (sweet) pathetic. He sighed. "When we were children I used to creep into Thor's bed when I was afraid," he said.

"I know."

The answer derailed his friendly overture for a moment. He frowned. "How could you know that?"

"Thor... teased you about it once," she reminded, reluctantly. He didn't really remember that. "So you poisoned him."

Ah. _That _he remembered. At the time it had seemed like justice. "That wasn't poison," he defended. "Just a little laxative." _Mostly. _He sighed and flipped the covers down. "Do you want to come in?"

He heard a rustle that must have been a nod, because a moment later she was crossing the room to him. She laid down and when her feet brushed him they were _freezing._ He imagined changing forms on her to get revenge.

They lay awkwardly side by side for a moment, but that wasn't very comforting at all and Loki finally said: "I suspect neither of us can do this as well as my brother, but it will probably be better than nothing. Here:" He manhandled her onto her side, spooned against her tightly, and slid an arm around her waist. "How's that?"

She nodded, and fumbled for his hand to lace their fingers together. "It's good, thank you. I'm worried, Loki. And I don't even know what to be afraid of. What's _happening_?"

"Nothing," he said firmly. "Nothing yet. It starts slowly. At least it did for me." He felt her tense a little, so he swallowed down his own doubts and started lying. "In any event, he'll be _fine. _You know there's not a thing in all the realms that could break Thor. We'll have him back in plenty of time. He'll laugh at us for having worried."

She squeezed his hand, and relaxed against him. "Truly?"

"Of course."

"But you _are_ worried."

"Perhaps a little. But my mood is at least as much exasperation as worry; Heimdall was stubborn and you know how I hate being thwarted. I'm fully confident about retrieving Thor in short order. Now don't think about... any of it. Just go to sleep. I've got you."

Before long she actually did, and her deep even (quiet!) breathing was marvelously lulling. The next thing he knew it was morning.

* * *

**TBC.**

**Ach sorry, this turned out to be longer than I was expecting, and we didn't actually get to Thor. But we will in a second.**

**And don't worry, I am not going to pair Loki and Sif. Blrgh.**


	26. Family - Chapter 4

**A/N: So last time I was doing shortish updates every 2-3 days. This time I seem to be doing longer updates every 5-7 days. Is that schedule working for you guys, or would you prefer the old way?**

* * *

In the morning Loki and Sif dressed quickly, without looking at each other. He sent her away and returned to Heimdall on his own.

"When I wore the crown," he said, "You all but disobeyed me. You slithered around my words – poorly, I might add; if I had not been otherwise occupied I would have named you traitor when I found out. But snows have fallen, as my kind say, and that doesn't concern me now."

Heimdall waited, impassive.

"All I want is to know whether you'll do the same thing to Thor. _For _Thor. Find a way to sidestep his commands, whatever they were, so that we can help him."

"The king was very thorough."

"So was _open the Bifrost to no one, _and that doesn't seem to have stopped you."

For a moment Heimdall didn't move, and Loki wondered whether he planned to ignore the comment entirely. Then he answered, slowly: "What would you have me do?"

_I'd have you get me there so that I can get him out!_ But that was the same argument all over again, so Loki tried starting small. "I need to know how much time we have. Has he been left to stew in a cell somewhere, or have they begun?"

Heimdall shifted his stance and closed his eyes. Was he _seeing_? "They have begun."

Loki supposed that was only to be expected; Thor had been there for several days. But he held on to the belief that nothing awful could have happened yet, or Heimdall would have said so. "And? Keep going," he pressed, "I want to know _everything._ Every detail of him at present, and everything you've seen of him since he left." He started out fine, short and clipped and controlled, but before long it started slipping. "Every word he's spoken, every movement he's made. Every… thing…" He shook his head and fought hard to keep the disturbing ideas out.

"If you would know detail, then let me _show_ you," Heimdall volunteered.

He frowned. "Show me?"

"I have been able to show to the Allfather at times. Never to Thor, but with your powers, perhaps it is possible."

"Tell me what to do." Loki came close at once, even before Heimdall had sheathed his massive sword. He didn't flinch as the guardian's hands rose and settled on either side of his head. They were uncomfortably warm.

"Open yourself, my prince. Your mind and your magic."

Loki felt a familiar alien power pressing against him and reached out for it. He had learned to recognize the presence of the watcher so that he could shield from it, but now he realized that Heimdall was not actually gazing at him from the ether… he was in a different place entirely, a layer Loki had never even known existed. _Heimdall? _he said, nervous, feeling himself gather magic around him as a shield.

The voice echoed through him: _Yes. This is where I see. Do not resist. _

He needed to know that Thor was all right. _You don't fear this,_ he told himself, and stopped pulling for power. Immediately he felt his mind invaded. His entire _self _came under pressure, trying to make room as a foreign presence expanded inside him, and he threw his hands up to cover Heimdall's and hold on tighter because he was worrying that his head might actually explode.

_There will be no explosion, my prince. I am only helping you look_. That should have reassured him, but instead, it told him that Heimdall could _see his thoughts _and suddenly he felt so exposed and helpless that he almost pulled away. But he had to know.

_Show me, _he thought. Heimdall showed.

* * *

Thor was hanging suspended by his wrists and completely limp. His chin touched his chest. His hair, wet and stringy with sweat, obscured his face. His chest didn't rise or fall and his entire body was covered in bloody wounds. Loki was sure that he was dead.

_No! You told me he lives!_ he shouted inside his mind, and he could hear Heimdall growl: _He does._

A drop of blood slid down Thor's side. When it reached the hipbone Thor's body jerked, and Loki remembered that he had always been ticklish there and let out a huge sigh of relief.

Now he was relaxed enough to let Heimdall settle further in, which let him see closer, more detail. Thor's breaths were very shallow – only tiny changes in the shape of his abdomen showed that he was breathing at all. _ He has become exhausted,_ Heimdall explained. _He has been hanging for many hours._

_Why is he so bloody?_ Loki demanded. _What happened?_

_The wounds are not deep. It was a whip._

Loki wondered if Heimdall could hear his mental wince. _Is he going to be all right?_ _He doesn't look well._ Thor's hands wilted in their cuffs, his feet pointed limp at the floor. The angle of his neck was unnatural, surely not comfortable, his head hanging down like a dead man's.

_He is exhausted,_ Heimdall said again. _He has not had food or rest, and he has been suffering._

Of course. Of course it was Thor's strength that the Drones would target. Loki tried not to get distracted by anger or a rising feeling of nausea. Instead, he looked a little longer at his brother's motionless body and tried to assess his condition.

It had been a long whipping, but not too severe; many of the marks did not bleed, and the lashes had crisscrossed only over his back and buttocks. Everywhere else the strokes had been laid down clear of each other, neat parallel lines, and such precision meant that Thor had had time in between to compose himself and become still – he had not been struck again while still writhing in pain. Also, though the amount of blood on the floor had alarmed Loki initially, he saw now by the color of the puddle that it was well-mixed with sweat and really not all that much blood to begin with.

But the state of the floor – clean everywhere except where Thor was hanging – said that he had been suspended the entire time it had happened, and all the time since. And his hands bore that out; despite the thick padded cuffs, his fingers had gone dark with lack of circulation. He was heavy and it would be agony for his joints to bear his weight for so long, but he was making no effort to use his muscles to spare them strain. He hung completely still. Suffering.

_How long do they plan to keep him there?_ he asked. Before Heimdall could answer there was movement – a Drone (not one Loki recognized) stepped into the picture and placed hands on Thor's hips. It pulled down, seemingly just a little, but even that small bit of extra pressure made the prisoner snap his head up, teeth clenched, and twist miserably. The Drone said something to him and uncoiled a whip from around its neck. It lashed him once, tugged on his hips again, and then retreated off to wherever it had come from.

Loki could watch, wincing, as Thor squirmed with the new pain, but once he went limp again it was too disturbing. _Enough, Heimdall._

Instantly the vision was gone, and his head ached as Heimdall backed away from him. "That is your answer, my prince. They are wearing him down. Slowly."

"It's not an emergency yet," he decided. "But it will be. Yes?"

"I watched them negotiate upon Thor's arrival. He asked for terrible things."

"All right." Loki ran a hand through his hair, and turned away. "Then I can't just let this foolishness run its course – I have to get to him. I order you to help me in any way you can."

"I cannot direct you to where he has gone. I cannot do anything to help you find it yourself. Nor can I name another who would do so."

Loki spun to face him. "Another?"

Heimdall's face was completely blank. "I cannot tell you who else might know how to get to that place. I cannot even tell you which realms have been known to send their criminals there."

"Which realms…" Loki frowned. "Go on."

"That is all I cannot tell you." Heimdall shrugged, and drew his sword again. "If you will excuse me, I should return to my duties. My vigilance should never be relaxed."

Loki nodded – clearly that was all the not-information he was going to get. "Check in on Thor whenever you have a moment," he ordered. "And… good work."

Heimdall inclined his head and went back to his post.

* * *

So Heimdall was suggesting that he seek help from someone in another realm. Alfheim of course was familiar with the dungeon; their ambassadors had suggested using it. But Loki didn't know whether Asgard was on speaking terms with Alfheim at the moment, so he summoned Thor's friends and demanded to know what Thor had done about the elves' princess.

"Ah..." Fandral made a face. "It's a long story, Loki, but Alfheim's not happy."

"You don't think I could talk them into a brief easy favor that might save Thor's life? _Me_?"

He shook his head. "Not even you. Not now."

So that was that for Alfheim. The only other realm Loki had had dealings with lately was the realm of the frost-giants, and he decided that made a decent place to start looking. If Helblindi couldn't help him he might at least have a suggestion of who could. "We go to Jotunheim," he said. Then he thought it over. "Rather, _I _go to Jotunheim. I probably shouldn't appear surrounded by a crowd of known enemies, should I."

Fandral frowned. "You can't go alone, Loki."

"You should have someone by your side," Hogun agreed. "An honor guard at least."

Loki nodded. Not because he needed backup in Jotunheim, but because when he got to the dungeon he might well panic and fall apart, and someone needed to be there to pick up his pieces. "One of you will come."

"I will," Sif said a beat before the others. She gave Loki almost a glare. "To watch your back. Just let me get a cloak – and Loki, so help me, if you leave without me..."

He spread his hands in surrender, and stayed exactly where he was until she returned. His own cloak he conjured. But he let the warriors help him bundle up and arm to the teeth, just in case.

When all was ready he took both Sif's hands, and was glad to see that they were warm and steady. "Let me do the talking in Jotunheim," he said. "The Jotun chief and I share blood." Oddly, he felt no revulsion as he said it. "I like him immensely."

Even more oddly, Sif showed no revulsion either. "Let's hope he likes you-"

"-just as much," she finished, in the swirling snow. She pulled her cloak tighter and looked around. "We're there."

"Indeed." Loki had to shout over the wind. "Let's get inside before we freeze." He didn't transform – it would be better to appear before the Drones in full ceremonial armor rather than a loincloth and collar. Not that his armor was the easiest thing to fight in if it came to that, especially as he'd grown used to wrestling nearly naked in the snow, but he needed to look imposing, and fully equal to Thor, if he was to have any hope of overruling Thor's wishes. So, Aesir he remained. He ignored the instant headache of a freezing metal helmet, and shivered inside his furs, and strained to make out even the huge silhouette of the giants' spires in the darkness.

He had transported them as near as he could, but it took so long to struggle that last bit to the doorway that the court was all assembled by the time they got inside. Helblindi greeted them with formal courtesy. Possibly because of the armor? "Greetings, Loki-Prince."

"Greetings, Helblindi-Prince." As much as Helblindi protested that _prince _overstated his importance, Loki thought he secretly liked it. He smiled from under his helmet and then took it off, and it was so cold to the touch that lines of frost began moving under his skin where it made contact. "I'm sorry to intrude on you again so soon, cousin. Thank you for receiving us." He evaporated the snow off himself so as not to leave a puddle.

The giant shrugged. "There is no intrusion, child. We are glad to see you." His red eyes flickered briefly to Sif. "And we are glad to see the Odinson's female as well – she is pleasing to look on. Greetings."

He could feel Sif bristle at being called _the Odinson's female, _and bristle harder when a number of frost-giants murmured approvingly, but for once she kept her mouth shut and only bowed.

"We need a favor," Loki said bluntly. He had already decided he could not in good conscience inform a frost-giant that Asgard's king was missing – even a frost-giant he had come to like – so he skipped that part of the story entirely. "There's a place I've mentioned to you," he said, "Where people are sent to be broken, to be put to the question and perhaps executed in the end. A dungeon. Ruled by creatures with-" Loki gestured to the side of his head, the place where the Drones wore their markings, and before he could describe any further Helblindi nodded.

"Ah. Yes."

"Do you have a way there? We need to go." This explanation he had prepared in advance, and the words rolled seamlessly from his tongue. "Asgard has a portal of course, but the Allfather went into his sleep without telling us where it is. Someone's been sent there in error, a terrible mistake, and I won't be able to live with myself if I don't go fetch him back. Can you direct us? I will be in your debt."

Helblindi rose from his chair and cracked his neck – a musical icy tinkling. All he said was: "Come." He led them outside. In his Aesir form Loki was cold and miserable and could hardly see, and he and Sif had to cling to each other to balance on the ice. He realized he very much _wanted _to turn Jotun at the moment. Except not quite, because then Sif would probably put a dagger through his eye in surprise.

Where they went was far – and even farther than it needed to be, because they took a circuitous route to keep closer to large rocks that would provide some shelter from the violent wind. It was a project of several hours, and powerful as he was Loki eventually grew too exhausted to keep himself warm with magic. The very best he could do was summon heat enough to keep himself (and Sif, a drain of energy which he soon began resenting) from freezing. _This is the last time I prance around Jotunheim wearing the wrong anatomy,_ he promised himself. _Last time ever._

"We have arrived," Helblindi eventually said, calmly, and stopped by what looked like a flat wall of ice. He pressed his hands against it to melt it away and reveal a shimmering doorway. "Loki-Prince."

"Yes?"

"It is the Odinson you seek."

It was a question, and at the idea of lying to him outright Loki hesitated for an instant – and knew the hesitation was noticed. So he might as well admit the truth. "What on earth gives you that idea?" he forced out through chattering teeth. "Of course I'd make this hike for any citizen of Asgard."

The giant snorted. "Return safe, child. Your realm of weaklings needs you."

* * *

They stepped from the portal into an empty white chamber with terribly low ceilings. Loki had to duck his head to cross the threshold, and even once inside worried about the height of his horns. The air was warm, which was blessed relief, and they shook ice from themselves and took a moment to help each other look presentable.

And then they looked around. Against the walls were a few plain chairs – metal – and Loki found he couldn't tear his eyes from them. _Please, h__ave a seat_. He remembered all too well the sides of the chair digging in to his arms as they were folded behind it.

"Loki?" Sif said, close by.

He shook his head. "I'm all right," he whispered, and fought to make it true.

Then a voice crackled through the air. "Good afternoon, Asgardians. Someone will be with you shortly. Please, have a seat."

_Please, h__ave a seat. _Loki shuddered and backed away to stand against a wall. Sif called his name again and he nodded – he didn't quite trust his voice, but he _was _all right. He breathed deep and slow. He was all right. He was.

Then he heard the light hiss of their doors sliding open. He knew that hiss. His eyes squeezed shut and he couldn't look. Sif was near him, he could feel her heat and smell her nervousness, but any comfort he might have derived from that was just not enough to protect him from-

"Afternoon, both of you. Loki! So good to see you again." The offensive, familiar drawl of Drone Three.

* * *

The next thing he knew was the clunk-clunk of his head against the wall and Sif's greaves against his head; he was sitting on the floor and she was standing over him. "What spell have you cast on him?" she was snarling. "Lift it or I will carve out your heart."

_Sif, no, _he tried to say; you couldn't _fight _them. But his lungs felt swollen up with air so that he couldn't breathe in or out, and he sat hugging his knees, frozen. Waiting.

"No spell," the Drone said easily. "He's just become very anxious, more than we'd expected. Apologies, Loki; I wouldn't have come myself. He remembers me because I worked with him," it added, and Loki could hear the changes in its voice when it talked to Sif. It was distant and polite, neither patronizing nor commanding her. But to _him_... "Now come on, control yourself. _Loki._ Quiet _down._"

There was suddenly silence and he realized that he had been wheezing, and now was not breathing at all.

"That's better," the Drone said. "Look at me." He obeyed right away, and when the Drone ordered him to _breathe _he did that too. He stared numbly as the Drone backed away to the far corner of the room and sat down in a chair. "I'm going to talk to your friend a moment, but listen: you won't be touched, and you can leave whenever you want. No one's going to bother you. All right?"

_Bother me. That's one way to put it. _ Loki felt himself coming back together, enough to hate that he was cowering on the floor at Sif's feet. But not quite enough to get up. "I'm fine," he said up to her, and stayed right where he was.

Drone Three looked up. "You're the lady Sif. I'm pleased to meet you in the flesh. Again I apologize for frightening Loki; Thor gave us to understand that he's all but shaken off the effects of his stay here."

"Of course he did." Loki snorted. "My brother would consider it _disloyal_ to admit that I often wake screaming in the night. Or that I'll probably never participate in a drinking contest again."

The Drone gave him a bland smile. "I can't imagine why not; as I recall you had quite a talent for it."

It would mock. The cruelty of that struck him like a blow, but Sif bent to help him to his feet and once he was standing he felt a lot more himself. Anger burnt away the last of his paralysis. "I would be careful with water if I were you, my friend," he growled. "By now I've learned to do much more with my nature than cool burns."

The Drone flashed teeth and instantly Loki was bathed in a cold sweat. _What are you doing?! _he gasped to himself, pressing tighter against the wall. But then his mind caught up to his panic and he realized that there was no threat – Drone Three had actually _grinned _at him. "Good for you!" it said, with enthusiasm. "Now. To what do we owe the pleasure? Are you planning to take out a contract on this dear lady, or am I correct in assuming you're here to ask after your king?"

Loki had planned a great deal of diplomacy, but now he opened his mouth and what came out was: "I want my brother back this very instant. Or I'll raze this place, with you inside it."

* * *

TBC.

Let me know what you think! And thank you so much for all your comments so far. I wish there was a way for me to post replies to em... I may just start doing it at the end of chapters. You guys are awesome.


	27. Family - Chapter 5

**A/N: Torture warning: brief glimpse, not that bad.**

* * *

"Loki!" Sif was hissing into his ear. "You said no battle!"

But the Drone was calm. "Thor is in the middle of a session right now," it said. "You're going to have to wait."

In the middle of a session. Right now. They were torturing him _right now _and-

"_Loki_," Sif said again, and shook him. "Remember what you told us."

He took a deep breath. Rage (not panic) was creeping up but he tried to sound like he was still together; he had already fallen apart once in the last five minutes and did not need to do it again. "Take me to him now."

The Drone was very still and watching him. "Come on, Loki. You did always strike me as rational. Even under stress."

Was it pleading with him? Had he made it _afraid_? Loki felt himself smiling – that strange cold smile that unsettled people so badly these days. "I _am_ rational," he said. "If you take me to Thor, nobody's going to get hurt."

"No, you're misunderstanding me." Drone Three rose from its chair. "All I meant was that you surely know better than to do anything rash. Assuming you care about your brother's safety."

Loki tried to look unimpressed, but he had to swallow or he couldn't breathe. He was choking, choking on nothing.

"Which of course you do." the Drone continued without emotion. "So, change your attitude. If I told you to get down and crawl, you would do it without a word of question or complaint." It smiled. "But of course I wouldn't do that. Instead, you and I are going to sit down and talk, like the rational creatures we are. Please." It gestured to the chairs.

Loki felt Sif pushing, trying to nudge him to _have a seat_, and because his legs were starting to feel unsteady he let her. How had this slipped so quickly out of his control?

"Now." Drone Three was crisp and businesslike. "As I said, Thor is busy. You can check in on him through a window if you like, or you can wait until he's done."

Sif cleared her throat. "Excuse me," she said. "Forgive me for not understanding, but why not interrupt now?"

The Drone bobbed its head at her. "A fair question. We're loathe to interrupt because Thor is being taught, and it would be extremely disturbing to leave with the lesson half-learned. He needs to discover a few more truths before it all makes sense."

Loki felt a squeeze and looked down, and saw that Sif's hand was on his knee. How long had that been there?

"We understand," she said. "But Loki was concerned that you may be hurting him."

"We are."

Loki laughed at the way she froze up. And when she looked at him in open-mouthed horror he laughed more.

"Enough," Drone Three said, and Loki stopped, because laughing made no sense anyway. "Decide. Do you want to go see him now – down the dungeon – or would you prefer to wait a bit until he can come out and speak to you here?" The Drone's eyes moved over him and Loki knew it was seeing his pale lips, his shaking hands. "The dungeon might not be a good place for you right now, honestly."

"We want to go to him now," Sif said. Her voice was hard.

The Drone was still looking him over. "Loki? Can you?"

Sif squeezed again. "Loki is _fine._"

Loki smiled at nothing. "Of course he is."

"Loki." And _there _was that tone again, snapping orders. "Focus."

Loki focused. Go to Thor now? _There? _But he had known it would come to that. He had told himself to be ready. "I'd rather visit him now than wait half a day and visit his pieces," he said. "Take us; I'll manage."

"All right." The Drone rose. "Follow me. It's a different room this time, a whole different wing actually. Maybe it won't ring any bells for you."

The bells were already banging away, but Loki did as he was told. He hung on to Sif's arm openly, and kept his helmet on even though it meant in places he had to duck.

* * *

There did come a time when he had to give up the helmet. Drone Three led them to a corridor with a long glass window, from which they could look in to a small well-lit room which had a pulley hung from the ceiling.

Thor was dangling from the pulley, by the wrists again, and they were talking to him. Also periodically tying weights to his feet. The weights looked small, but for some reason they were driving Thor berserk; his roars of agony could be heard even through the thick glass partition.

Thor would _hate_ for people to watch him scream. "Don't look," Loki snapped in Sif's direction. His own eyes were glued.

"If you want to go in I can take you, but there's probably no point – it won't be much longer," Drone Three said. "He's going to pass out soon."

Loki frowned. "From what?" Even as primed for panic as he was, this didn't look too bad.

"His hands started behind his back."

_Then_ he noticed the unnatural length of Thor's arms, the incorrect placement of his armpits, and realized that both his shoulders had been badly dislocated. And all his weight was hanging on them, plus the weight the Drones were adding besides.

Loki could _feel _it. Physically feel it, the burning pain of joints tearing on the rack. It was as awful as the first time, and his stomach knotted up. "I'm going to-"

"Sit." He was shoved into a chair, bent over forcibly until his head was on his knees. "Don't puke in your hat." The helmet was wrestled off.

But once it was gone he could hear Thor bellowing even more clearly. "Enough," he said. "He's had enough – listen to him. Please, he needs mercy, you have to stop. Please." He had never begged them, not until he was too far gone to even know what he was doing, and it hadn't been pride – it had been fear, it had been _this, _it had been the absolute terror of what happens when you open yourself up to the core and offer them _everything you have, _and still they say no?

He waited. He couldn't breathe.

In the silence, though, he could hear the noises from the chamber better; the words were indistinct, but he could make out the cadence: questions cool and firm, answers frantic – increasingly frantic, high-pitched and desperate.

He covered his ears.

Almost at once a cool Drone hand tugged on his wrist. "Come on. We'll wait in his room instead. Sif!" the Drone snapped at her, and Loki watched her detach herself from the window as if in a dream.

"Loki?" she said.

His answer was automatic: "I'm fine." She looked shocked. She damn well should. The Drone shoved the horned helmet into her hands, and Loki wanted to ask for it back but he was being urged to his feet and he could do nothing but obey.

"Come on, Loki. This way."

He went where he was told.

* * *

He didn't know how long they waited in the empty cell. He was staring, Sif was staring at him, and Drone Three was reading a book.

But eventually the door opened and two Drones dragged Thor in by the feet. He lay limp and groaning, but Sif, thank goodness, took his condition in stride and stepped quickly into his line of vision. "Thor."

Thor struggled to sit up, panting and wincing with every inch. "Sif. Loki." His words were thick and slurred.

"Don't talk," Loki said at once, suddenly kneeling beside him. He had no idea how he'd managed to cross the room that fast. "What happened? I'll fix it." He took Thor's chin in his hand, feeling around the jaw carefully, all set to heal it as soon as he figured out the injury.

"Lno." Thor shook his head and tried again. "No," he said more clearly. "It's fine." He brought a hand up, wincing, to peel Loki's away. "Why have you come?"

"I'll give you three guesses, you imbecile." Loki gestured for Sif without looking, and she came to crouch beside them. "On the count of three we pick him up and dump him on the bed." He could have done it with magic, but he didn't want to waste his strength since he might need it for healing and escape. "One. Two-"

"_No_!" Thor struggled hard enough to dislodge their hands. He turned to Sif. "Ribs and shoulders. Be careful."

She nodded, calm. "All right, no pulling. I'll just brace your back."

Loki hated himself for not knowing how to help, but he watched carefully so that next time he would. Sif crouched behind and let Thor set his back against her. As she counted three he sucked in his breath, his massive legs bulged, and they stood up together.

"Can you walk?"

He nodded, and made his way slowly to the bed to sit down. When he moved Loki could see that much of what he had taken for shadows was actually bruises – Thor's whole torso was black and purple. Most of the whip marks had healed already, but that was small comfort, as it seemed he had spent the day getting his ribs broken instead.

Once he'd caught his breath he looked up. "I asked you not to come," he said to Loki.

"No – you asked me not to _interfere_. And we haven't interfered, yet. But we're going to."

Sif was hovering by the bed, not quite touching. "What happened to you?"

Loki snapped: "Don't ask." He wanted her gone gone gone, but as he knew he couldn't manhandle Thor by himself he would have to just make the best of it. "Though I _will _ask what happened to your mouth so I know how to heal it for you." Annoyed and waspish. It was a tone he could control. "As annoying as it is to hear you talk, it's even _more _annoying to hear you talk unintelligibly. Tell me how you're hurt."

Thor glanced to the Drone in the corner for permission first, and then nodded. The words were mushy but understandable: "A device with wicked little clamps." He opened his mouth wide. "Hee?" There were dark raw spots on his tongue.

"Electric shocks," Drone Three supplied.

Whatever _that_ was, the wounds looked enough like burns that Loki knew what to do with them. He pulled for power, and though it was more difficult than he thought it should be (this place? His upset? An injury deeper than it looked?), he managed a healing.

Thor sagged with relief and moved his tongue around. "Thank you, brother."

"And now the rest."

"No," Thor said dully. "There is no point; they will only do it all over again. I am not finished."

"Yes, you are."

"I'm afraid not." Thor was _laughing, _though only for a moment before had to wince and clutch at his ribs. "I signed a great deal of paperwork on this point exactly. A contract."

"Break it."

Their argument was interrupted by Drone Three clearing his throat. Loki looked over, eyebrows arched, and the Drone shook its head. A warning.

That warning look brought Loki back to all sorts of places he didn't want to go, but he forced his mind to behave itself and _focus._ "Thor's your prisoner. Therefore his wishes mean nothing. Yes?"

The Drone smiled a little. "Thor's our client. Therefore his wishes mean _everything; _we signed a contract with him and we _will_ live up to it."

"See?" Thor said. "Loki, even if I wanted to leave, I am bound by my promise. I'm not going anywhere."

There had never been a promise Loki could not slither out of. "I'd like to see Thor's contract, please," he said immediately. Politely. With his most charming smile.

Drone Three nodded. "You're welcome to look it over. It's up in the office." He opened the door and gestured for Loki to precede him, and at that old familiar motion Loki hesitated a moment.

Thor swallowed. "Loki, don't," he said.

"It's the fastest and safest way to get you out. And I have to get you out."

Thor huffed with frustration. "This is my choice and I am at peace with it. I don't want you to distress yourself on my account. I did not mean you even to _know_ about this, much less to-"

"Not _know _about it?" he hissed. "Did you think you could _hide _it? When you start jumping at shadows and crying in your sleep?"

"I thought-" Thor stopped himself partway through the sentence. "Forgive me, brother, I am exhausted."

"You thought what?" Loki frowned at him. No answer. "You thought _what, _Thor?"

Thor shook his head, lips pressed shut, stubborn.

Drone Three laughed. "Would you like us to ask him for you?"

"That's not funny!" Loki snarled. "My brother is an idiot. Take me to his contract this second. You," he added to Sif, "Stay with him. Make sure nothing else happens to him, and try to talk some sense into his thick, thick head."

"No," Thor put in. "Sif, go with Loki. Don't leave him alone."

Loki fought the urge to throttle him. "I don't need my hand held. Don't _look _at me like that!"

Sif knelt by Thor's bed, and put her hands on his knees. "You're my king. I would die before I let harm come to you."

Thor shook his head, wearily. "I am a prisoner. Loki rules now."

"Exactly," Loki put in. "So you will obey me when-"

"So you will _protect __him_, with your life," Thor corrected. "Loki. Just because you're in charge does not mean that every stupid thought which passes through your head should become law. Who taught me that, I wonder?"

Loki had never – _never _– lost an argument to Thor, but he didn't really have an answer. He fumed. "Words suit you ill, and will avail you not at all. Sif: I won't be gone long, and in the meantime I _order _you to stay by Thor's side."

"Sif," said Thor, "As your friend, I ask you to go with Loki instead. I will never forgive myself – or you – if he should come to harm."

"I am not in any danger!" Loki was almost shouting. "And- and what if I were? What if there's a firefight and I bring the very _walls _of this place down on our heads. Would you rather be able to save _me_, or Thor? You don't care about me; you care about him. You will stay."

He made it as far as the door before she called after him. "Loki. That's not true."

He paused with his back to her, taking a moment to be sure a cold smile was fully in place so that he could turn and mock her for the lie.

"It's not," she said again, before he could face her. "I care about him _more_, yes. But if he didn't need me, I _would_ go with you."

Well, he appreciated the honesty at least. And Thor's protests sounded genuine, which he appreciated too. He nodded and followed Drone Three out the door, alone. Head high and hands firmly at his sides.

* * *

Loki had never really spent time in an office before, but fortunately a smiling Drone with dull eyes – seemed to be female? – offered to help him the moment he arrived. He told her what document he wanted to see, and within moments she handed him a thick stack of papers.

Loki frowned at it. He had expected a scroll, a few lines, maybe written in blood. This was going to take him _forever _to unravel. But surely it was not beyond him. He sat down and unclipped the stack, but before he could start paging through it Drone Three spoke up. "Want me to save you some time?"

Loki nodded.

"You're not going to find anything wrong with the conditions Thor signed to. We don't do loopholes. Try this instead. Hey!" he called to the dull-eyed female. "This is the de facto King of Asgard, and he wants to rescind a contract on one of his subjects."

The female cocked her head. "De facto king?"

"Prior king recently abdicated. Left that scepter Odin was always carrying around. Loki's next in line."

Loki wasn't used to lying with an accomplice, but he didn't miss a beat. "See?" he said, and yanked Gungnir through the ether. It glowed contentedly in his hand. "Mine. I haven't actually had a coronation yet, but I've already sat on the throne as king."

The female shrugged. "Good enough for me. I'll draw the papers up. Anything else I can help you with?"

Loki shook his head, but as he watched her put Thor's papers back in a drawer _full _of papers he suddenly had an idea. "Wait – yes. Have you got-... can I have-...?" he turned to Three again for help.

The Drone nodded and explained: "He wants one of Odin's files from earlier this year. Number thirty-eight something, I don't remember. Contract on Loki Odinson."

The female found it, ran it through a miraculous device that cloned it instantly, and handed Loki the clone. "Here you are – contract on Loki Odinson. Yours to keep, Your Majesty." That was all. No horrified exclamation of: _This is you and it was your father who signed it!_. Nothing. He wondered if she was an automaton of some kind. Or, maybe he was just silly and oversensitive? Maybe there was nothing odd about Odin's behavior at all.

"Thank you." He tucked the papers away in the ether.

"And here's what you need to rescind," the female continued brightly. "Are you sure? If you're sure, check that this is correct... and sign here... and here... and read this... and sign there..."

Loki did it all without paying any attention. He was too busy wondering what his papers would say. What Odin had actually planned for him, how little Odin had actually cared...

"You shouldn't read it," Drone Three advised as they left the office. "Never a good idea."

"Oh, what do _you_ know?" Loki snapped, annoyed that the Drone could somehow tell what he was thinking about.

Three laughed. "I know plenty; I've been doing this a long time and I'm good at it. As you probably remember."

Loki broke out in goosebumps all of a sudden – until that moment he had been doing quite well _not _remembering. He refused any attempt to make further conversation until they got back to Thor's room, at which point he had no chance to make conversation at all because he was too busy trying to wrangle an injured and disoriented but still ridiculously strong God of Thunder back to the portal and back home.

* * *

TBC.

Let me know what you think so far!


	28. Family - Chapter 6

**A/N: Sorry this took so long; I had a super brutal week at work. This has got some of Thor's POV, and some brotherly feelz. Lots, actually.**

* * *

"What do you want first?" Loki's voice was crisp and emotionless. "Would you like food, rest, healing, solitude – well, in your case, company I suppose. Or what?"

It all sounded wonderful, but Thor's head ached and it was a trial to keep his eyes open. "I need to sleep. I'll have everything else when I awaken."

"Of course." Loki turned to Sif and gave orders. "Tell the others he's back and alive and generally in one piece. And my mother. But no one can see him until he's slept."

Sif frowned. "Our friends will want to-"

"Well he doesn't want them here. So you can tell them that-"

"Loki." From somewhere he summoned the strength to speak. "I can greet my friends. They have worried for me."

Loki glowered. "Fine. If it will ease their -ahem- _minds _to hear him say hello, then they can poke their heads in for half a minute. That is it. Then he sleeps." And once she was gone, the snarling only intensified. "Meddlesome harpy. And _you,_ what are you smiling about?"

Thor knew better than to tell Loki that his angry fussing was endearing. He had always liked it, though it only ever happened when he was hurt.

"Nothing, brother," he assured. "I'm just glad to see you again, even though you're annoyed with me." _Especially since you're annoyed with me._

"Mm." Loki did a poor job of not looking gratified. "Well, get into bed. Perhaps they'll get the message and leave a little faster. I'm only giving you five minutes before I come and throw them out." He left the room with a very severe glare.

Sitting in bed felt wonderful, and he didn't think he would want to converse for more than a few minutes anyway. But it turned out there was no cutting short the visit once Volstagg learned how long it had been since last he'd eaten.

"That can't be," the warrior huffed, eyes wide and horrified. "Someone _GET SOME FOOD IN HERE_!"

Sif glanced towards the door, to where Loki no doubt stood glowering in the hall.

"All right, my friends, it's all right," Thor soothed. "Peace. I've grown used to hunger – it hardly distresses now. I want to rest, and when I wake I'll-"

"You can't go to bed without eating," Volstagg insisted. "How will you ever get your strength back?"

He felt irritation, but the mood was hardly the fault of his friends and he swallowed it down. "You're right, of course." A smile felt odd and stretched on his face. Aftereffects of the electric shocks, perhaps? "Will someone call for bread and broth for me? Something simple – I'm afraid I'll be ill if I try to eat too much."

Fandral rose. "I'll take care of it," he said, and reached out to clap him on the shoulder as he left. The touch hurt terribly, but Thor mastered the urge to squirm.

Once Fandral had gone Volstagg rubbed his stomach. "I suppose talk might take our minds off hunger," he suggested. "Tell us what happened. The rescue at least."

The thought of telling a story wearied him, so he shrugged. "Sif can tell it as well as I can."

Attention turned to Sif, and she shrugged also. She tucked hair behind her ear – Thor did not recall her ever doing that before – and looked at the floor. "Loki and I went to Jotunheim. The giant-king led us through ice and snow, to a door, and when we got there one of those_creatures _accosted us. Loki... was afraid."

Volstagg snorted. "_There's _something new."

Thor had long since learned not to get between his brother and the Warriors; it only ever made the arguments worse. But this time, incredibly,_Sif _came to Loki's defense. "_Stop it,_" she ordered. "Loki did very well. When he arrived in that place he was… frozen. Wild and staring, like… like a warrior who's seen too much of death. You know the look. But then he managed." She touched her hair again. "He was very worried for you, Thor."

Hogun nodded. "We all were."

"Yes." Volstagg thumped on the bed hard enough to shake it. "You can't go off like that. We're your friends. If you're going to go adventuring, you have to bring us with you. So that we can protect you from foolishness like this."

Thor laughed – though there was anger, a powerful wave of anger. "This wasn't an _adventure!_" It was his habit to laugh when he was angry. He had just learned that; it was one of the things the Teachers had pointed out to him on the day he arrived. (He called them Teachers at their request – their somewhat mocking request. They had refused to give him their names.)

"Both of you be quiet," Sif said with authority. "If Loki hears arguing he'll come throw us out. Thor needs to rest."

Volstagg rolled his eyes at her. "Don't be such a mother hen. And since when are you so taken with Loki?"

Hogun snickered. "Maybe she really _does_ want to lie with a frost-giant."

"Better a frost-giant than an oaf like _you,_" she answered at once.

They bickered on, but more quietly, and it was comfortable and familiar and Thor almost fell asleep to it. He only opened his eyes when he smelled food. Fandral had returned, with broth and bread for him... and also meat and cheese and fruit and cake.

"Share with me," he offered. "If I eat all this I'll be ill." He got a few bites himself before the rest vanished into the bottomless abyss that was Volstagg's stomach, and then he bid his friends good night.

* * *

When the Idiots came out Loki looked to Sif first. "Well?" he said.

Hogun interrupted. "He is hurt worse than he says. Tomorrow you must take him to the healers."

"I'll talk to him in the morning," Loki agreed, and started into the room.

"Good luck with that," Sif snorted, voice raised so that Thor would overhear. "Thor isn't very good at _listening_ when he's like this. If you need someone to drag him, call us. It wouldn't be the first time."

Loki nodded, and resisted the urge to knock all their empty heads together. Certainly what Thor needed just now was to be _dragged_ to the healers against his will. Poked and prodded and made to feel helpless all over again.

As soon as they were gone he locked the bedroom door and rubbed his temples. "Relax, nobody's dragging you anywhere," he said.

"I'd like to see them try." Thor sounded amused, if exhausted, and called Mjolnir to him with a wave of his hand. "And I am not _that _poor a listener."

Loki had his own views about that, but the last thing he wanted was an argument "Is there anything you want done? Or just sleep? Either is fine."

"Would you have a bath drawn for me?" Thor asked. "I am too disgusting to go to bed like this. And it may help ease some of the aches."

Loki knelt and put his hands on the floor. He closed his eyes and felt for water, found the bathroom, started the water flowing. "Done," he said. "Come on. I'll sit with you so that you don't fall asleep and drown in there."

Thor stood very carefully, biting his lip. Loki slid an arm around his waist without asking, and helped him to the bathroom.

He heated the water until it steamed, since Thor liked baths that were almost scalding, and then magicked their clothes away. "Get in," he said, and sat down on the edge of the tub. It was far too hot for his taste, but he didn't cool himself because he didn't want to accidentally ice the bath over. He was only in up to his knees anyway; he would manage.

As he'd expected, Thor pronounced the miserable temperature perfect. He immersed himself to the chin, groaning loud enough to echo off the walls.

"Come sit here," Loki said, "I'll wash your back." It was as good an excuse as any to look him over – and it didn't take long to find something disturbing: when he brushed Thor's hair out of the way, there was a line of big puncture wounds across the back of his neck. "What's this, what happened?" he asked, more sharply than he'd meant to.

"Hm? Oh – that is nothing. And I deserved it."

"_You did not deserve any of this._"

"Ow! Peace, brother!"

He realized then that he had made a fist in Thor's hair and was yanking. "Sorry," he added, letting go. "Should I erase this for you?"

"No – you know I prefer to heal on my own. But if it doesn't improve by tomorrow you can-..." He paused. Sighed. "If it doesn't improve by tomorrow I'd be grateful for your help."

"Of course." Loki wondered what he had been about to say, but that would wait. First he had to deal with these marks. Thor was treating them like he treated his battle wounds, so Loki did the same and conjured his usual supplies. "In the meantime I'll just clean them for you. This will sting." There were plenty of solutions that _didn't _sting, but Thor always complained that they didn't feel like _real medicine_.

"_Mph._ Thank you."

"You're welcome. What happened?" he said again, rubbing briskly.

"I was... less than cooperative about being chained," Thor explained. "So they used a collar with spines, and tethered my hands to it. It was_supposed_ to keep me from struggling."

He sounded sulky but also proud of himself, and Loki had to laugh. "But you, of course, with no sense of self-preservation..."

"... Struggled anyway, and made fantastic holes in myself. At least at first, until the bleeding..." He shrugged. Would not say _weakened me. _"It's mostly better, though, isn't it? The other day it was a hideous mess."

"It's improving, yes." What had obviously been a web of nicks and scrapes and slashes had healed into faint silvery scars, and only these few deep pits were left. "How do you feel?"

"A bit better. Volstagg was right – food helped."

"A broken clock is right twice a day, you know. Put your head back." The punctures continued around the side of Thor's neck – stopping shy of his jugular, but still. "They could have cut your throat."

"Bah. There weren't spines in front – and if there had been, even _I_ would not have been stubborn enough to yank."

Loki sighed and finished cleaning the punctures. "Do you have any other open wounds I should worry about?"

"No."

_What about open wounds I **shouldn't **worry about?, _he thought, but reminded himself not to crowd. Instead he only offered: "And do you want me to wash your hair? It's filthy." When Thor protested that he was perfectly capable himself and started to raise his arms, Loki slapped them right back down again. "Don't, you'll hurt yourself. Let me do it."

The dirt and dried blood he washed from Thor's hair said he probably hadn't bathed at all during-... during the time he had been gone. Loki tried not to think. "Anything else?"

Thor shifted carefully. "I have a rib – at least one – that needs setting, and I'm much too tired to go to the healers tonight. I can go tomorrow, or..."

"I'll fix it." He laughed. "We know I know how. Stand up, face me."

"Loki. About that." Thor stood and faced him. "I owe you apologies, brother. For so many things."

_This _he had not seen coming, and he felt uncomfortable, _worse _than uncomfortable, smothered and trapped. "It's fine, it's all fine, _water under the bridge _as you Asgardians say," he babbled. "Let it lie."

"No. We _will _talk about all that – about everything," Thor insisted. "About resentments that have been festering longer than I realized." His eyes lowered and he splashed irresolutely a moment, but then he looked up with determination. "Father said that you were angry, and perhaps I didn't truly understand, but now I do. We'll talk about it. Not tonight perhaps, but we will talk."

Ah – reprieve. "Not tonight," Loki agreed. He could think of little he wanted to do _less _than talk about forgiveness with Thor. Ever. Surely Thor would forget by tomorrow, if he were distracted somehow. Perhaps if his hair were cut off in his sleep. _I was worried about lice,_ Loki could explain. Or perhaps-

"But there is one thing, brother, that cannot wait." Thor interrupted his thoughts firmly. "Something I must know before another moment passes. I suffered a great deal for this point, as I was asked over and over again to tell, to guess even, and I had no answer. Perhaps you can help me."

Loki remembered the terror of _not knowing, _of digging through his mind desperately and coming up empty. It was a horrible feeling. "Certainly," he managed to say. "What was the question?"

Thor's mind was so much _simpler_ than his own. Surely whatever had stumped him was actually not a difficult question at all. _Why did you burn Loki's first spellbook, _perhaps, or _do you believe Odin would be proud of you as king?_

(Respectively: jealousy, and yes but for the wrong reasons.)

Thor took a deep breath. "When I was on Midgard, you came to me and told me I had lost my family and my home." Suddenly Loki was frozen. "You told me that my father was dead, by my hand, and that my mother-" He took another breath, an even longer one, and held it. Loki could not breathe at all. "That my mother had ceased to love me. You made me believe I had lost... everything."

He remembered rehearsing the conversation. _Thor is an optimist, _he'd told himself. _He'll think of a hundred and one ways to hope and you must be able to dash every one. He can't come home because there's a truce. But I could come disguised, he'll say, you've disguised me yourself in the past. Oh Thor, you say, a sad smile, you pay no attention at all, do you. The power it would take to hide you, et cetera et cetera, technical details he won't understand, and the moment I slipped everyone would know and they'd kill **both **of us, brother. I can't leave Asgard open and Mother alone._

He had... planned it. Meticulously _planned_ the breaking of Thor's heart, and now Thor was watching him with a bewilderment that couldn't even _begin _to approach the bewilderment he was feeling himself.

_How could you do that_?, Thor was going to say, and he had absolutely no idea.

He was starting to become dizzy. He ordered himself to breathe, and then air rushed into him in a gasp, but the dizziness didn't fade.

Thor cleared his throat and firmed up his voice. "That moment was the worst pain I have ever known, Loki. Why did you do it?"

Silence. Loki blinked. Thor had asked _why…_ not _how._ He had just been accused of cruelty beyond enduring, cruelty beyond the atrocities of the dungeon even... and Thor wasn't even shocked with him.

_Well, why should he be? We frost-giants aren't known for our tenderness,_ he thought, with a smile that didn't quite make it to his face. _Or our familial loyalty._

But _why _was at least an easy question. "Why? Because I needed you to feel hopeless," he explained coolly. "Too depressed to bother interfering with me. And I didn't know exactly what enchantment Odin had put on your precious Mjolnir, but I thought it entirely possible that it was your worth in your own eyes that mattered. So if you felt unworthy, you wouldn't be able to lift the hammer. Wouldn't be able to fly back and beat my ass with it. That's why."

Thor was waiting. "And?" he said at last.

"And what?" Loki snarled. "And nothing. And have I any way to excuse myself? Of course not. I wasn't thinking. Not even a little. I didn't give_one thought_ to your feelings, Thor, I didn't even think to care. So." He shrugged. "If it's any comfort to know I didn't break your heart intentionally, you have that. Otherwise I'm afraid I can't help you; I have nothing to say."

Thor's frown deepened. "I thought you would tell me I had done something to deserve it. That it was... justified."

"We frost-giants aren't known for our sense of justice," Loki tossed back immediately, with the smile this time – an ugly smile that made Thor flinch. "Sorry to disappoint."

"What?" Thor waved the comment away. "Never mind about frost-giants. I still don't understand, so tell me this at least: do you even care? Do you regret it?"

He lost his temper, all at once. "Regret what – _lying _to you?" He gestured to himself spastically. "God of Lies, Thor! Do I have to spell it out for you? _I cannot be trusted! _What's the matter with you – how many times until you learn?"

_Loki! Control yourself._

The command blazed up in his mind and suddenly his rebellious little mouth snapped shut. Interesting – and helpful. He fished for another one. _Change your attitude_.

"I-... one moment," he said aloud, turning away to stare at the bathroom tiles. The fight he had just picked was absurd – he had to apologize. _If I told you to get down and crawl..._

It was true: he did know better than to cling to his pride stupidly. "I beg your pardon, brother," he said. Quietly. "I had absolutely no business shouting like that. You asked a question."

"Yes."

_Do. Not. Lie. _

But _that _wasn't a good order to think of; he could feel himself beginning to panic. "If I try to answer you aloud I'll lie to you," he said all in a rush. "But I don't want to say nothing and hurt your feelings further." What could he do? He had to say sorry somehow, but he didn't know how, but he couldn't do nothing, because that was _Not an answer._

The panic was worsening. He had to explain.

"Loki? Say something."

He didn't know what to say. But then, inspiration struck. Thor was never any good at _listening _anyway. "Get out of the tub."

Thor sank down in it instead, frowning with suspicion. "Why?" Perhaps he had finally grown properly wary. Good for him.

Just this one time, though, wariness was not necessary. "Because I'm going to hug you," Loki said, quick and uncomfortable, "And I'd rather not do it until you're clothed. You'd be shocked at the rumors that are flying about us already."

"You're going to... hug me?" As if he didn't believe.

"Don't act like it's so difficult to understand," Loki snapped. "You do your best communicating with your hammer after all; I couldn't have been more than six when I learned that a punch in the face means _Thor's annoyed. _Surely you can get it through your head that a hug means _Loki is sorry, _can't you? Come here."

When he finally came out of the tub, dripping, Loki chucked him a bathrobe and stepped close. He remembered just in time: "I'll mind the ribs. Is this all right?"

He circled Thor's body gingerly, but Thor said, "I don't care about the ribs," and gathered him in with force.

So he squeezed back, ignoring the hiss of pain. His face was against Thor's shoulder and he could hear Thor's breathing in his ear... which reminded him of their sleeping arrangement, of everything his brother had _done _for him lately, and if it was possible to feel any sicker, that did it.

He had to say something_. _He could use a hug to prove sincerity – something words alone could never accomplish – but still he would have to talk at least a little. _Be strong, _he told himself, wishing he could command as much obedience as _them. _He took a breath and did his best. "Know that I'm sorry, brother," he said, steady. "And that I won't do it again, and that if there's any way I can make reparation I will."

Thor was silent a moment. Then: "I never wanted to blame you or hate you."

Loki snorted. "That's unfortunate, as the king is supposed to treat people justly – and blame and hate are exactly what I deserve."

"Don't joke."

"I'm not." He squeezed once more and said into Thor's shoulder: "I really am sorry." Then he backed away.

"Loki..."

"Now don't be an idiot and say you forgive me," he anticipated, and Thor closed his mouth. "Just shut up and let me fix your ribs."

* * *

TBC.

As always: let me know what you think!


	29. Family - Chapter 7

**A/N: The Thor/Helblindi meeting was leading to some kinda heavy feelz, and I was in the mood for something light given all this storm crappola this week. So, this is a shorter chapter, ending with Sif & W3 messing with each other, which was fun to write. The somewhat territorial brothers thing will happen next chapter instead – and it's already partly written, so it should be up in a few days.**

**Also: apologies to anybody who isn't interested in reading Loki's contract papers – there's a lot of them in this chapter. I just think he's naturally curious and there's no way he would let a potential grudge like this lie without finding out what was in there. **

* * *

Thor was sleeping, and giving every indication that he would _remain _sleeping through the night and all the next day. Loki would not leave him – but did not feel disciplined enough to study, nor relaxed enough to read for pleasure.

So of course the sensible thing to do was call forth the papers he had retrieved from the Drones and read that instead.

He put out of his mind entirely that Drone Three had advised him not to examine the documents. The day he voluntarily took advice from one of those creatures…

_Loki Odinson,_ the cover page said simply. It was a machine-printed sheet, but when he turned the page, the first document was a letter in Odin's own handwriting.

_I have a prisoner to entrust to you: my son Loki, _the letter said. No greeting. _Send agents to collect him at once; I will give detailed instructions here and repeat the critical points in Loki's hearing. Prepare the usual papers – he will be treated normally insofar as the pains you inflict and the confessions you extract. However, I will have special instructions regarding the care to be taken with his dignity, and a warning regarding his affinity for lies._

Loki twitched with smile. Affinity for lies.

_Breaking Loki will be difficult and delicate work, _Odin went on, _requiring sensitivity but also a very firm hand. I trust you will appoint a team capable of the task, and I expect to meet them before half an hour passes._

And then his signature, big and bold.

Loki flipped the page. More correspondence. _Will we need to send warriors to subdue him?_ said a note, and Odin had scrawled across the bottom: _No – he will go willingly, but his escort should be visibly intimidating in order to impress upon him the seriousness of his situation._

At that he frowned. Odin had _known _he would cooperate, and he hated having been so predictable. If he had known what was expected of him he would have made a point of rebelling, and behaving as erratically as possible.

The next page began the contract itself. It was printed, a list of terms to be marked and initialed. The first was: _The prisoner shall be returned to me ALIVE / DEAD / DEAD OR ALIVE. _Odin had circled _ALIVE_, which seemed to bode well. He'd been kind for most of the page, actually – _The prisoner SHALL NOT be permanently disfigured. The prisoner SHALL NOT lose ANY body parts or ANY body functions. _(Loki wondered what it meant when a prisoner _SHALL NOT lose MAJOR body parts._ What qualified as a major body part?). He was not thrilled that Odin had authorized _MODERATE _scarring as opposed to _MINOR, _or better yet _NONE,_ but on the other hand he supposed he could always have wiped scars away with magic afterwards anyhow.

He finished the page not feeling particularly upset by the contract yet; it was mostly information he had already had.

When he flipped to the next section, though, he felt much less tranquil. This was a checklist, _Permit _or _Do not Permit _item after item, and Odin had taken his pen and slashed wholesale down the _Permit _column. _In other words, _Loki thought, _go on and do what you like to him. I don't even care enough to think about it._

He set the contract face down; he needed a moment. Thor was snoring away, peaceful and oblivious, and Loki crept across the room to sit beside him on the bed. "You're an idiot," he said softly. _Rack. Wheel rack. Cross. Maiden. _Even a quick glance at these forms should have told Thor more than enough. What on earth could possess him to sign them?

When the bed dipped Thor twitched in his sleep, and curled up – a defensive posture Loki had never ever thought to see him adopt. "Mm," he mumbled. "Mm-nn."

Loki winced. Looked around first, because he felt truly ridiculous and wanted to assure himself that no one was watching. Then he leaned forward and put a hand on Thor's waist. "It's all right," he said. "It's done, mm-nn, no more hurt. Go to sleep. You're safe now."

Thor relaxed, which was good, but then recommenced snoring, which grew annoying very quickly. Loki went back to the table.

The contract was still calling.

_There's nothing there for **me,**_ he told himself, _but it will tell me at least what might have happened to Thor, and then I'll know how to take care of him without making him talk about it. _It seemed like a reasonable enough justification.

He flipped the pages again to find the checklist. As he'd noticed earlier, Odin had approved without restriction the _Methods _page. Loki scanned through it, impressed at its thoroughness. A dozen different beating implements were mentioned by name, but there was also an option for _Beating – All Other,_ with an _Except_ line to specify any tools that were excluded. (And Odin had excluded nothing.). _Burning _was similarly detailed; they could use _Open Flame, Hot Irons, Scalding Liquids, Electricity. All Other. Except._

Other entries were a mystery to him; under _Shocking _he understood _Electrical _and _Magic, _but _Free_ was an unknown and he made a note to check the library later. _Direct Nerve Stimulation _– whatever that was – sounded clinical and terrifying, and some of the items under _Chemical_were nearly as bad. And Odin had marked _Permit _for all of them. For all of everything. _Permit Permit Permit._

He swallowed. "I should send the creatures a thank-you card," he murmured. Feeling lucky for what had _not _happened to him was a nice change from feeling sickened by what had.

He turned the page and saw with some surprise that Odin had actually taken his time with the next portion. There were individual items checked and circled, and notes in the margin. Loki was gratified to notice that while Odin had permitted most of the _Fear _section, he had written beside it: _Probably of little use._ Loki supposed he agreed; most of the list hardly sounded like tortures to him at all (_Darkness?_ _Vermin?) _and while _Mock Drowning _for instance didn't sound like fun, it was surely better than drowning in earnest.

Odin had disallowed almost the entire _Humiliation_ category (except for _Nudity _and _Slapping_), and written for emphasis: _ Be courteous, talk with rather than at him, give him his name. _In the appalling section labeled _Sex_, he had prohibited _Rape by Living Creature_ and _Groping _and_Genital Torture With Sexual Overtones… _though he had allowed _Genital Torture Without Sexual Overtones, _and Loki had a sudden need to cup himself protectively. _Penetration by Object _was treated in the same way. Loki firmly didn't think about it.

Odin had added at the bottom of the page: _I authorize you to use the above techniques only to the extent that you can do so respectfully. Punish him for foolish and shallow pride, frighten or embarrass him to make him more tractable if you wish, but the genuine esteem in which he holds himself is not to be disturbed. He has problems enough in this regard already._

Loki snorted. "You're a monster, son," he said aloud. "And there's nothing you can ever do to please me, and I'm sending you away to be butchered. But please, by no means start to _doubt _yourself."

"Loki." A sleepy murmur from the bed.

Loki spun around fast. And removed his hand from his crotch. "I didn't mean to wake you, sorry. Go back to sleep."

He vanished the contract. Just in time – Thor's eyes moved over the table in puzzlement. "What are you doing?"

"Oh, nothing." Loki laughed. "Reading poetry. A very moving piece about the love a father has for his sons. I'm not done with it yet. Go back to sleep."

Thor sighed, and rolled carefully onto his back. For a bit he was silent. Then he confessed, to the ceiling: "Things would _happen _to me when I tried to sleep."

Of course. He should have realized. "Would you like me to knock you out with magic?" he offered, casually. The less Thor thought it mattered, the more likely he was to cooperate. "You won't startle so easily, and you won't dream."

Thor heaved a sigh. "I should be able to sleep on my own. _Babies _manage to sleep on their own."

"Not babies who have just come from a torture chamber." Loki got up and crossed the room, and didn't comment on the way Thor tensed for just a moment. Wariness was… strange on him. Thor never had cause to be wary of anything.

"Let me, brother," he insisted. "For a few days at least, while the memories are still fresh. You can train yourself back to normalcy once you've rested. Hm?"

Thor looked away, face dark. Finally he nodded.

Loki fished his hand out of the covers and held it. Not strictly necessary for the spell, but touch did sometimes make enchantments stronger. "Look at me," he said, and that was not at _all _necessary for the spell, but he wasn't about to help Thor pretend that this was shameful.

Thor made eye contact only reluctantly, mouth thin. "Of course you hate this," Loki said, with his gentlest smile. "You've always hated all kinds of splints, ever. It's all right."

"I want to be well," he growled. "Now."

"You've been home for a grand total of a couple of hours, Thor," Loki pointed out. "It's a bit early to be feeling impatient."

"Hmph."

"I'm going to put you to sleep now, all right? Are you comfortable?"

Thor wriggled a bit and then relaxed into the bed. "Yes. Go on." He gripped Loki's hand firmly and waited.

Loki sketched the rune he needed, and Thor went out like a light. Then he added another rune, to try and silence the snoring.

* * *

Loki stayed in the bedroom long past noon the next day because he didn't want Thor to wake up alone, but he was going stir-crazy and as soon as the snoring transformed itself into intelligible mumbles, he made for the door. "I'll send your friends in to keep you company, shall I?"

"Hm?" Thor moved slowly, stiffly, to roll to his side. "No," he gasped, obviously in pain, but he rarely appreciated offers to help and so Loki didn't make one. "Let me have some time to dress."

"Alone? Or should I stay?"

Thor clenched his fist in the bedding and waited a moment. "Alone," he said at last, under much better control.

"All right. Take your time. I'll go see how badly everything's gone to shit since we've been gone."

He heard petitions, signed documents, fielded questions from worried subjects and friends and even the woman Thor had attempted to take to bed after his birthday party – which seemed a lifetime ago. He avoided Frigga, because he was too old to run to Mother with every little problem, but he did make a point of stopping by the Allfather's bedchamber to tell him coldly: "Your son is safe now. No thanks to you." And when that still wasn't enough to burn off his anger he added: "They tortured him – but of course don't blame yourself for putting the idea of forcible enlightenment into his head; I'm sure he would have thought it up on his own anyway." Vicious and more vicious. "Want to know how he's doing? For all I know he's as mad as I am, and he whimpers in his sleep now like a little child, but don't worry – I'm taking care of him. I hope you find that reassuring, Allfather. And I certainly hope you're enjoying your nap. Thor's mine now. Sleep well."

Ah, that felt better.

* * *

It was hours before Thor was dressed and able to walk steadily, but his friends did not bother him until he was ready. When he finally emerged he found them lurking in the hallway – Volstagg and Hogun at least. "We've been taking it in turns," Volstagg explained. "Weren't sure how long it would be before you came out."

Thor nodded. "I need to eat."

It was the most reassuring thing he could possibly have said; Volstagg grinned and slapped him on the back (and Hogun wordlessly caught him when he pitched over), and they made their slow way with him down the corridor, swapping stories of battles where people had been hurt much worse than this. Between those and the difficulty of walking, Thor's mind was completely occupied. It occurred to him that it was _better_this way really, that as long as it took intense concentration to balance upright and put one foot in front of the other, he would have no time or ability to remember anything else. He wondered if it might not be better to ask Loki to _slow _his healing rather than speed it up; once he had attention to spare it was likely to wander to…

Things.

"Where's Fandral?" he said loudly, trying to drown out his own thoughts. Sif he could do without; Sif had looked at him quite strangely yesterday, worried and almost angry. She either could not see or did not care that concern was not necessary, and so for the moment at least he would prefer to spend his time with his other friends only.

Volstagg snorted. "Fandral is probably tucking his dick back in his pants right about now."

"Likely," Hogun agreed. "He has been gone almost three minutes."

"My friends, you have grown brutal since I left you," Thor laughed. "Fandral is-"

"Or he could be prying Sif off that brother of yours." Volstagg said it lightly. Too lightly. And he wouldn't make eye contact.

That was ridiculous. Thor glanced at Hogun to see, but Hogun shrugged at the floor. "Esteem has grown between them," he admitted.

"Aye," Volstagg snorted. "The kind of esteem that makes a wench share a bed with a man."

A cleared throat behind them made them whirl – Thor slower than the others, which he hated – to see Fandral and the wench in question.

"Now, that's not fair," Fandral protested primly. "There's no reason to think anything untoward. A couple of nights ago Loki was sharing with_me_."

Volstagg laughed. "And that's supposed to convince us that it's chaste? All that tells me is that Sif should check herself for diseases, if Loki was in proximity to _you_ before he- _oomph._"

Fandral thumped him in the stomach. "Don't mind Volstagg, he's just jealous." He threw his arm around – at least, as far around Volstagg's bulk as it would go. "Since nobody will ever share a room with _him_, because he snores like a bear."

Thor was too busy trying to look healthy to really get involved in the conversation, but Sif seemed to mistake his silence for brooding. "There's nothing to any of that, obviously," she said quietly to him as they continued on down the hall. "I did share a bed with Loki, because I was worried about you, and he held me like a sister. That's all."

Thor tried to picture Loki holding Sif in any manner besides a chokehold, and the image would not come. "Of course," he lied.

"And," she added, intent on unburdening herself, "There's also nothing to the talk of me and the frost-giants. Loki's friend said I'm _pleasing to look on. _That's all. I didn't even answer him."

A frost-giant paying Sif a courteous compliment (and Sif allowing it!?)? That was another event he could not picture. He _could _picture pushing Sif out of the way as a frost-giant's axe whizzed over her head, but…

"I know you're not silly enough to be jealous anymore," she went on. "I just didn't want to give you any more things to worry about right now. You have enough on your plate."

He heaved a sigh. "Sif, I'm _fine._"

"That's what Loki says too – and look at him."

"_Sif._"

She was quiet for about two seconds. Then: "I _am _a woman, you know," she sniffed. Strange – usually she punched people who mentioned that particular fact. "If I want to fuss a little you're just going to have to let me."

He didn't quite have the energy to argue with her – yet.

* * *

Loki heard that the king was up and about, raiding the kitchens, and so he excused himself from counsel. If the king was well enough to raid the kitchens he was well enough to do his own job. He followed the sound of laughter and ruckus, and walked in just as Fandral put the finishing touches on a stack of small cakes that Volstagg apparently meant to try swallowing whole.

"You have to open the throat, my friend. Open." Fandral was tilting his head back, demonstrating.

"Not going to ask where you learned that. _I_ think it's all in the stomach." Volstagg let out an enormous belch. "All about making room first, see?"

Thor and Sif were sitting together on a counter, deep in conversation, and Loki got close enough to hear what they were talking about before they noticed him. (Magic may or may not have helped with that.)

"Truly?" Thor was saying. "Are you sure?"

"I said I'm not _sure, _Thor. But the giants all laughed when we walked in shivering, whispering among themselves, and I _know _I heard one say they thought Loki had grown out of this silliness." She looked horribly uncomfortable. "It _sounded _like he visits them… as a Jotun. But I couldn't say for sure."

"You could ask," Loki snapped, and pulled off the charm that kept him unnoticed.

Sif's dagger was halfway out of its sheath before she recognized him. She was _fast._ "Loki."

"I'm terribly sorry to have startled you, my lady," he said, dripping innocence. He was surprised that Thor didn't snap orders at him to _be nice,_but then he looked at Thor and realized Thor wasn't in much of a state to snap orders at all just now. He was immediately contrite. "Brother I didn't mean to…"

Thor shook his head, short and jerky. "It's fine." He was gripping the counter hard, breathing hard, but they waited in silence and eventually he relaxed. "Go on," he invited at last, gesturing. "You were sniping at one another…?"

"We're done," Sif said into Loki's eyes, and he couldn't agree more. "Thor was just asking about what it's like going to Jotunheim with you," she explained, a little sharply. "Since you never tell anyone anything."

Loki rolled his eyes and said in Thor's direction. "You know perfectly well what it's like going to Jotunheim: it's cold and it's full of Jotuns. What else is there to tell?"

"Their chief. The one who's your relation." Thor was using that _look, _that open and guileless one. "Sif says you like him. That you're friends."

Loki looked away. "I… I'm sure I've told you that Helblindi is my favorite…"

Thor frowned. "I'm not even sure you've ever used his name. Besides, given how y-…" He took a breath and rephrased. "Given some recent events, I wouldn't think it takes much to be your favorite Jotun."

Ah. He did have a point. Considering Loki had attempted to murder all of Jotunheim…

"Well, I like him," he said shortly. "All right? I'd have you meet him, except it's too fucking cold for you at this time of year. We'll talk about it when their sun comes again."

"So invite him here."

Loki laughed aloud. "What – a frost-giant in Asgard?"

Sif hummed and looked at her fingernails. "He wouldn't be the first."

Loki stared at her in amazement – how _dare _she bring up…

"What?" she insisted, and gestured at him. "We've got one right in front of us. You could turn blue and keep him company."

He looked her over and decided that she was serious. Hadn't meant any worse than that. Hadn't meant to bring up Loki murdering his own _father _or anyone else. So he ignored her and turned to his brother. "Thor, it's madness."

"Because _that's _always stopped him," Sif put in.

"Sif!" Loki pointed, sending her away like a bad dog. "Go. Go let Fandral teach you how to open your throat or something."

Sif hopped down from the counter easily… but suddenly her dagger was at his neck. "Say that again and I'll open yours."

After she was gone Loki climbed up onto the counter in her place. His neck stung, but his fingers came away clean and he took that as a sign of affection.

"I truly want to meet your frost-giant friend," Thor said, as if there had been no interruption.

"Not now, brother." Explanations poured out easily enough. "You just got home and you're exhausted. The last thing you need is-"

"-Is to dwell on things that are past," Thor said over him. "I would like to stay occupied if you don't mind."

A good point, but Loki didn't care. "Then you can start by attending your meetings again. Or pretty soon I'm going to demand a crown of my own; I'm the one doing all the work anyway."

Somehow, incredibly, that failed to provoke or even distract him. "Fine. Meetings are fine. But in the meantime, bring me your giant."

"He's not a, a stone I can just put in my pocket and-"

"_Invite him to visit, Loki_. I am serious."

Clearly. "Fine, all right." Loki held up his hands in surrender – mock surrender; surely he would think of a way to avoid this uncomfortable meeting once he really put his mind to it. "I'll invite him. Your wish is my command after all."

"Good."

* * *

**TBC.**

**Even when Odin is trying to be nice, he pisses me off. He perceives that Loki has self-esteem issues and cautions the torturers against traumatizing him in that regard... and somehow completely misses that maybe if he treated Loki a litle better Loki wouldn't have doubts about his value in the first place. (At least *Loki* didn't miss that though. I'd rather have him be snarly and sarcastic towards Odin that continue pining after his %! #*& conditional love.)**


	30. Family - Chapter 8

Thor was adamant about having Helblindi over for a visit. Not a formal diplomatic visit; in fact, nobody else had to know about it at all. "I would just like to meet the cousin of my brother," he declared. "I sometimes feel I don't know you, Loki. And I would like to. If you would allow it." Complete with big wounded eyes.

Loki had no way to argue with that (especially the eyes, which seemed genuine), so he finally just gave up and went to Jotunheim, hoping that Helblindi would do the sensible thing and decline.

But Helblindi did _not _decline, at least not right away. Instead, after Loki explained the invitation there was a long silence and Helblindi just stared at him, and Loki was uncomfortably aware that the last two sets of frost-giants he had invited to Asgard had all ended up dead.

"I would discuss this," Helblindi said at last, "Outside of your hearing, Loki-Prince. Please forgive the insult."

"There's no insult," Loki said quickly. "Honestly." _Please forgive the insult _was a ritual phrase after which a frost-giant usually slashed his own palm open with ice, to prove that he was actually sorry. "I'll wait outside."

He stepped out, and transformed because the corridor was near cold enough to freeze to death in. When Helblindi called for him again – not twenty minutes later; how fast _were _their counsel meetings and why couldn't Asgard be so efficient? – he reentered the main hall in Jotun form and Helblindi smiled.

"I am pleased to accept your invitation, child."

And he actually _sounded _pleased. Loki had no choice but to act pleased as well; if he tried to talk him out of coming now that would be worse than insult.

He told himself that it would be a few moments of awkward introductions, a quick private dinner, Thor and Helblindi would probably talk about battles or something, and then he would whisk his cousin out of there before anything worse happened. He told himself that it was silly to think anything would go wrong.

* * *

When it was time, he pulled Helblindi through the ether and appeared with him in Asgard's throne room, which was deserted save for Thor leaning restlessly against the throne. Loki checked him over quickly and approved: nice clothes, no armor, hammer resting on the ground beside him.

Helblindi, of course, wore only his usual rags, but he seemed to have put on additional jewelry for the occasion. He had no way of disarming himself, since he could _grow _weapons when he needed to, but Loki reminded himself that the trust the giant had shown in following him to this potential death-trap had to be proof enough of good intentions.

Loki walked him up the steps, noticing with a bit of concern that Thor was growing tense. "Thor, this is my cousin Helblindi," he said quickly – too quickly, nervous. "If you want a title use _Prince, _but he doesn't like it. Helblindi, I believe you know Thor. Thor's king now, but he doesn't stand on ceremony in private."

The two of them stood in silence, eyes locked, and at last Loki laughed uncomfortably. "You two wanted to meet each other. Now you're meeting. Say hello." He turned and looked over his shoulder, suddenly concerned. "I'm going to lock the doors; if anybody wanders in they'll have a heart attack."

He felt a little guilty leaving Thor alone when Thor was clearly feeling nervous, but he hated awkward silences and besides it really _was_important to lock the doors. He went down the steps and partway across the hall, closed his eyes and laid some spells down.

He opened his eyes to the sound of a terrific crash, and spun around to see what it was. His jaw dropped: in the half minute he'd been occupied, Thor and Helblindi had begun brawling.

"_What_ – stop, stoppit, what are you _doing_?" he almost shrieked, running towards them. They ignored him and kept fighting. Fought harder, even; Helblindi ate an enormous punch and a moment later shoved Thor so hard into the great throne that it rocked and almost tipped over. "_I said stop_!" Loki conjured a powerful spray of water, separating them like angry cats. Thor went down gurgling, but Helblindi only snarled and froze the stream. Loki wrapped him in a stiflingly hot current of air and dragged him backwards.

What could possibly have gone wrong already? He tried to puzzle it out fast. Helblindi must have offered an ice greeting, with some cryptic Jotun phrase about storms and enemies or something, and Thor had taken it the wrong way and acted before thinking. As usual. "Well?" he pressed. "Thor – what happened?"

Thor got to his feet dripping and coughing – and very slowly. As much as he liked to pretend he was fine it was clear there were still injuries he was hiding, and fighting with giants was the absolute last thing he should be doing with himself. But Loki kept quiet for now, and just magicked him dry. Once he finally managed to stand he said: "I'm sorry, brother – it struck me, and I lost my head."

"No," Helblindi growled, softly. "I would never so insult your hospitality, child. The Odinson attacked first."

"Lies! I will smash your-"

"Thor!" Loki snapped at him. "_You_ requested this. You said it was to be a friendly meeting_._"

"And I tell you this _lying creature _started a fight with me, and now denies it with the most bald-faced-"

"Thor." Loki interrupted with a hand in the air. He had lived this same conversation so many times in front of the Allfather, and the Allfather had never, ever gotten it right. "Stop. I've been in enough fights with you myself to know who throws the first punch, brother. I'm sure you considered yourself provoked, but you cannot just go about hammering everything that doesn't agree with you."

"But he-"

Loki continued right over him. "I don't know what he said to you, and I don't care, but taking a swing at him is not the answer." He took a deep breath and turned to the frost-giant. "Cousin, I formally apologize on behalf of our king," he said. "Things are difficult between your kind and his. We must all make allowances."

Helblindi nodded. Loki could not read his expression. "I must have given offense," he said at last. "I will better guard my tongue."

"No. No, _Thor_ will better guard his temper. We've been over this." He stared hard at Thor, _daring _him to pull rank. _I'm the king and I can show temper if I like, _he would perhaps: _As your king I order you not to speak another word._ Or maybe that old favorite: _Know your place, brother._

But when Thor spoke it was slow and measured. "You would… take the part of a frost-giant… over your own brother?"

"My own brother?" Loki was too agitated to watch his mouth, and the words were out before he could stop himself. He might have gone on, too… but suddenly there was a cool calming touch on his neck.

"Do not make your choices in anger, child."

He nodded. Didn't say anything else.

Thor turned and stormed away.

* * *

As soon as he was gone Loki began to miss him, and to make excuses. "Thor's arguments often turn violent," he explained. "Don't take it personally – it's just the way he argues."

"I know."

"Next time he sees you he'll probably apologize and try to give you a hug."

"I think he will not hug one such as me." Helblindi's tone was bland.

"You're probably right. But don't take it personally," Loki said again. "He's called me _lying creature _more times than I can count."

"Does he call you _it_?"

Loki had nothing to say to that.

"Loki," Helblindi said after a long silence, "The Asgardian told you true: I did provoke him. And I struck him first, as he says."

Loki blinked. Many times. "_What_?"

"I wished to see you judge between us. It was not for selfish reasons: for the good of my people, I had to learn whether your mind has been poisoned by Asgard's hate."

Loki tried to wrap his mind around it. "You- you set that whole thing up," he managed at last.

"Yes."

"You _lied_ to me." He felt confused, nervous, the back of his neck prickled. He _hated _lies.

"Yes."

"But-… but I believed you. I am an idiot." He realized he was speaking his thoughts aloud, and stopped. His next words were carefully considered. "I understand your need to test me, but this is not good. My brother is liable to be seriously upset with me."

"Yes. I hope you will forgive me; if not, I will remain unforgiven." He shrugged. "I had to know."

"I need to go find Thor. Now." Panic was rising. The feeling of having wronged Thor was… hideous. He had to get rid of it. "I need to apologize."

"I understand. Would you like me to make apology to the Odinson as well?"

"I'd like you to fucking-!" _Do not make your choices in anger. _Loki took a deep breath and revised himself. "No, thank you. Just stay here, all right? I'll be back. Try not to get into any more fights before then."

* * *

Thor stood alone in a field. Loki wondered for a moment if he had chosen the place specifically for the picture he would present – tall and golden in a field of tall gold grass, one foot raised up on a rock, one hand knocking the hammer softly against his leg.

In better days Loki would have played a prank on him: spoiled the scene by spraying him with paint perhaps, or by releasing a couple of bilgesnipes. Something fun.

But they were older now, and things more serious between them, and so Loki just trudged across the field trying not to sneeze. (He had always thought that plants did not agree with him. But now he thought, for the first time, that perhaps it was only _Asgard's _plants that did not agree with him. The ice-flowers of Jotunheim never tickled his nose in this way. _Even their plants don't like me,_ he thought. With an odd kind of satisfaction.)

"Thor." He called it from far away. Thor was easily startled lately, and the last thing anyone needed was a hammer to the face.

Thor's head rose and he nodded, then raised a hand to beckon over his shoulder.

Loki approached hesitantly – contrition was still new and he was feeling his way along with care. But Thor misunderstood his hesitation. "I'm not going to hit you, brother." He gave a short laugh. "You wouldn't take it as well as the giant anyway."

Out of nowhere rage was blooming up and suddenly he was lost to it. The meadow became unbearably stifling and his skin prickled and he realized _he was changing_ without his own fucking permission.

He took a deep breath and settled back into his Aesir form. Apologizing would have to wait; this was a fight worth having first. "_The giant_ has a name, Thor." But his voice was too deep, the Jotun growl not quite out of it yet, and Thor stiffened and turned to face him.

Loki cleared his throat. "I'm-… sorry," he said. "I didn't mean… that."

"You mean you didn't mean…" Thor touched himself on the neck.

He nodded. "I'm not losing control," he promised quickly, the worry spilling out as fast as he thought it up. "It's just I've been changing back and forth a lot lately, and just now I got angry on Helblindi's behalf, and I… But I caught it."

"Mm." Thor dropped the hammer by his side and crossed his arms. "I know the giants have names," he said at last. Still visibly spoiling for a fight. "So do the elves. So does everyone. But there's nothing wrong with calling them what they are, brother."

_Brother_. The absurdity made it impossible to get really angry; all Loki did was nod and say: "You're absolutely right, Asgardian. I'll keep it in mind from now on."

Thor's demeanor changed at once. He looked… shocked. Sick even. "Loki-…" He turned away.

_That _was odd and beyond odd; Loki had expected at best an eye-roll. He'd thought perhaps Thor might not even notice – sarcasm generally sailed right over his head.

Loki frowned at his back. "Thor? Brother? Are you… all right?" He stayed where he was and watched the broad shoulders rise and fall, fast and even, as if Thor were fighting hard to control himself.

Was he _that _angry? Over what?

"Thor?" he said again. Finally just admitted: "You're worrying me. What's the matter?"

Thor took an especially deep breath and held it. Finally he said: "They would…" and shook his head.

They? Loki put it together almost at once. His own papers from the dungeon had specified that the Drones were to _give him his name,_ as if such a thing were unusual, and apparently Thor hadn't received that same courtesy. _Asgardian,_ they'd called him. Anonymous, as if he didn't_merit _a name, because it certainly wasn't that they couldn't remember it! They knew every last detail of his existence.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't know." Loki stepped up and locked his arms around Thor's waist from behind. He would excise that from his vocabulary immediately; to be safe he would also stop making comments about _you Asgardians, _although he seemed to remember saying it once or twice over the last few days and Thor had taken it generally in stride. Still. "I absolutely won't upset you like that again."

Thor let himself be hugged a moment. Then: "The reminder merely startled me. I'm not upset."

"Of course you're not." Loki let go and stepped away. "And you're not stubborn either."

"Mind your tongue, Loki." Thor fetched up his hammer and hooked it back on his belt. "You interrupted me in the middle of a fight, and my blood is still boiling."

"Ah… About that." Loki bit his lip. "Helblindi hit you first. You were telling the truth."

Thor laughed. "I know I was telling the truth."

"Well-…. _I_ didn't know. He told me afterwards. And so I apologize; I had it wrong."

Thor cocked his head. "He told you? I don't understand."

"He caused a problem between you because he was… testing me. For favoritism." Loki felt a bitter smile and just let it happen. "I used to do it all the time to Father," he admitted. "Father always failed."

Thor held his arm out and Loki went to him – with apprehension; one hug was more than enough for a day. But Thor wasn't hugging, he was only holding Loki by his side so that they could walk back together, and that was a convenient arrangement because it made eye contact impossible. Loki wondered if he had done that on purpose.

"I hope you know I wasn't lying," Thor said after a moment. "When we were boys."

"You mean, when you always said that the trouble was my fault, or that I had started it, or that-"

"Yes. That," Thor interrupted. "I wasn't lying. It always _did _seem like you started it somehow. You were always provoking me."

"By what – _breathing_?"

"By… by saying nasty things to me, by playing mean little tricks, by… _looking _at me, in that way you had…"

"By looking at you." Loki repeated it flatly. He had been _looking _at Thor wrong – that explained why Thor had _twice _almost drowned him, or refused to let him come on excursions unless he carried all the tents, or made him wear that disgusting molding mask and be the troll whenever they played battles. Looking.

But Thor did not give any ground. "You knew perfectly well you were picking fights, Loki, and _that _is the truth, whether you will admit it or not."

He pursed his lips and didn't answer. Thor took it for the admission it was, and squeezed him.

All this affection was starting to feel crowding, so Loki growled: "Get off. Or I'll get Helblindi to come and knock you on your ass again."

But if that was really meant to annoy Thor – and he was not sure it was – it failed. Thor's laugh was loud and genuine. "I'll have you know I was winning that fight."

"He was pulling his punches," Loki said, though he had no idea. "I've wrestled him; I know."

"Of course he was," Thor said, more seriously. "So was I."

"What?" It certainly hadn't _looked _that way. "Your mouth is bleeding and I think you broke his nose."

Thor shrugged it off. "The blows perhaps were in earnest, but from the beginning your giant was taking care, brother – his touch hardly burned. I put Mjolnir down as soon as I noticed. For fairness's sake."

Loki realized then for the first time that Thor should have been _ravaged _by frostbite; his extremities should be falling off and those reddish handprints on his shoulders should have frozen his flesh black. "Are you all right?" he thought to ask, for the first time.

"I'm fine. And I forgive you for misjudging – as angry as I was, I do understand. Generally I _do_ strike first, as you said. Your suspicion was reasonable."

_Just like Odin's,_ he thought, out of nowhere. _How many times was the mischief my fault for true?_

But that was not a thought he was ready to think just yet, and he turned his mind to a different problem entirely.

"Thor. We have to talk about something."

Thor finally let go of him and walked by his side without touching. Perhaps he could tell from Loki's tone that it was going to be nothing good. "Certainly."

"I need you to be a little more, erm, tolerant of the frost-giants," he said evenly. "Aside from the unfortunate fact that _I am one,_ I'm also concerned that you're going to cause some sort of diplomatic incident by referring to people from other realms as _it _to their faces."

"Did I-?" Thor seemed _surprised, _which made it much worse. If he had meant to insult it would have been easy to write off; they said terrible things to each other in anger all the time.

"You did. Try your best not to do it again. Hm?"

"You have my word." He was silent a moment. "I'm still getting used to all this, Loki."

_So am I._

Thor heard what he didn't say. "And I haven't had the benefit of frost-giant kin and vacations in Jotunheim to help me."

Loki snorted. "I don't know about calling _frost-giant kin _a benefit, but for what it's worth you have me. I'll take you to Jotunheim when the weather's warmer – if Helblindi will have you. He welcomed Sif."

"Indeed. I heard about that." Thor's grumbling sounded genuine, which made Loki laugh.

They both relaxed. "Is your cousin still here, Loki?" Thor asked after a moment. "Or did he go home?"

"There will be no second round, Thor. The fight is over."

Thor ignored him. "Because I want to invite him out tonight. Fighting and drinking are an excellent beginning to a friendship, and Helblindi and I are already halfway there."

* * *

Out of politeness Loki conveyed the offer, but he was convinced it would be easiest for everyone if Helblindi just packed up (or not; he had no luggage) and went home.

Unfortunately Helblindi didn't agree; the invitation seemed to intrigue him. "An Asgardian tavern," he mused slowly. "No Jotun has gone to such a place, for many generations. Save for you, child."

"You're not missing much. Honestly."

Helblindi ignored him. "I wish to go – if the Odinson truly wishes to have me. It is custom in some realms to make invitation and hope for polite refusal."

Loki considered. "I wouldn't say all of Asgard is as sincere as Thor," he said at last, "But _his _invitation, at least, is genuine."

"Then I accept. Shall I go as I am?" He held up a huge blue hand and turned it in the light.

"Ah… I could disguise you," Loki offered. But perhaps that was insulting? "Or you could just go as you are, and take your chances. I have no idea what people would do if a frost-giant walked into a tavern; it's never happened. There would likely be an enormous brawl, which I'm sure would leave Thor delighted."

"Never happened," Helblindi echoed, and hesitated. "Does no one know what you are? Truly?"

Loki shook his head. "Whoever had care of me as a baby, I suppose, if they still live. Thor's friends know. And perhaps one or two of the healers. The rumor doesn't seem to have spread; I think it strikes people as simply too ridiculous to be true."

"Ridiculous? Why?"

_Because it's known that I slew the frost-giant king in Odin's bedchamber. Because it's suspected that I had some part in turning the Bifrost into a weapon against them. Because no one spoke out against those **monsters **as loudly as me. Because Thor hails me as brother and nobody is brothers with a frost-giant. Because no attempt I make to change people's opinions would ever be successful, and so I'm making no attempt at all._

He shrugged and said with a vague little smile. "I've lived my whole life as a son of Odin."

"Mm." Helblindi didn't pry. He only nodded and said calmly: "You will disguise me so that I can walk through Asgard in peace. Tonight, we three will drink together. Thor and you and I." He paused. Rumbled with laughter. "And perhaps you can prevail upon the Lady Sif to come along."

* * *

TBC.

In vino veritas. Uh-oh.


	31. Family - Chapter 9

A/N: My tavern is serving in giant mugs. It seems more convenient than horns. (Do you always chug a horn, or is there some way to put it down without spilling? Do they come with little stands?)

* * *

Before dressing for the evening, Thor stood in front of a mirror and appraised himself honestly. He still felt far from his full strength, but his condition looked to be improving.

Much of his muscle tone had returned (if it had ever been gone. Loki had assured him from the start that no weakness was visible, but he had put that down to comfort and flattery.). The lumps on his ribs had smoothed out, save for one that had been there for years. He ran his fingers over it, but could not tell whether it protruded more now than before.

If he turned his head to the side and moved his hair, he would still be able to see the pink of scars left by that hateful collar. He didn't.

His injured joints were healing all as usual. The incredible soreness of his overtaxed muscles was likewise fading in predictable patterns – but slowly. He had never been so sore or strained in all his life. The lingering pain electricity had left, elsewhere than his mouth, had finally resolved itself – which profoundly relieved him; he had not been able to face the embarrassment of asking Loki or any of the healers for help.

And the whip marks were all gone, save for one that had cut across his knee, splitting the skin in a place that stretched open when he walked. That one would certainly scar. Just as he knelt to examine it, someone rapped on the doorway behind him.

"May I come in, brother? Do you need a hand?"

He did not, but he took the proffered hand anyway – Loki had come for the sole purpose of tending him and he ought to show appreciation. "Thank you, brother."

Loki seemed almost flustered. "Right. Well, again, those marks – I can wipe away anything you don't want reminder of."

Thor pulled on his underclothes and thought it over. Finally he held out his arm and touched the large puckered scar inside his elbow. "Perhaps I've worn this long enough," he suggested. "Do you agree?"

He thought it a very clever gesture of peace, inviting Loki to wipe away an old wound he had dealt.

But Loki looked puzzled. "That's been there as long as I can remember. What's it from?"

He gaped. "Loki… you gave it to me."

Still no glimmer of recognition.

"The fire-lizard?" he prompted. "That you let loose in my bedchamber? You don't remember? Of course you remember. It was after our-"

"_That_?" Loki snatched his wrist and yanked him closer. "Is _that _where this came from? Are you serious?" He touched the patch and then recoiled, wiping his hands uncomfortably. "I- I had no idea the thing actually _burnt _you," he stammered. "Why didn't you say something? I could have- or you could have gone to the healers..."

He told himself that it was long past time to move beyond the foolish pride of a foolish boy. "I was ashamed that I couldn't subdue the creature myself," he admitted. "It was a week before I could even bring myself to tell anyone it was there. I swore Fandral to secrecy and he helped me capture it."

Loki let out a bark of incredulous laughter. "You slept for a _week_ with a baby dragon under your bed?"

Thor nodded, and elected not to confess that _he _had actually slept under the bed, because it had seemed safer, while the dragon prowled around in the darkness. He also did not confess that he'd eventually given the creature a name: Loki Flametongue, since it seemed to share his brother's temperament and fondness for sweets. (He'd begun feeding it on the third day, as soon as it occurred to him that hunger was likely to make it even more vicious than it was already.)

"I am _terribly_ sorry," Loki said… full of mirth.

So Thor held his arm out with more insistence. "This was very painful, and aggravated by my every movement," he said. "It took weeks to heal."

"Come on, Thor." Loki rolled his eyes. "You know I didn't mean for that to happen."

"And yet it did." Now, finally, he understood why the Teachers had asked him about this scar – and about half a dozen others Loki had caused. He had thought the questions were meant to confuse him, to make him doubt the love of his own brother… but now the pieces fell squarely into place. "We have hurt one another in more ways than we know," he said. He wore Loki's miscalculations – and rages – all over his body. And it stood to reason that the reverse was true as well.

"Ah." Loki did not argue, only took his arm and touched the spot. "Not all wounds are as easily visible as this. Or as easily erased."

"Loki-"

"Now this will hurt," Loki said over him. "Sorry."

As if he needed it, here was yet more proof that he and Loki differed greatly in their understandings of _hurt; _the searing flash of magic was over quickly and bothered him not at all. Afterwards he flexed the arm and looked at the new unblemished skin.

He felt much better for having spoken. Secrets were poison.

It occurred to him suddenly that if the frost-giant had really found a place in Loki's heart – which it _had, _as unpleasant as that was to admit – then it might be wise to begin clearing the air with him as well. They had never really sat down and discussed the Stupidity… and there had been more than enough secrets kept from the Jotuns, for more than long enough.

* * *

Since it was easiest to manufacture disguise in a form he knew, and safest if Helblindi was generally ignored, Loki wove magic around his cousin to give him Hogun's form instead. Hogun was only too happy to avoid a night of drunkenness, and it would look strange to no one that Thor was heading out for a night of carousing with his brother and his friends.

The others were already there when Loki and Helblindi entered the tavern. "Ho, Loki," Fandral called from the corner table. Beckoned. With a smile.

Once they were seated Loki looked around to make sure nobody was listening to the conversation. Then he said, quietly: "This is my cousin Helblindi. Helblindi, these are my brother's friends. You remember Sif. That's Fandral, that's Volstagg, and there would be a third, Hogun, only you're currently wearing him. A drink?"

He nodded. "Thor. Lady Sif. Fandral and Volstagg. Greetings."

"Please, don't _lady_ me." Sif gave a friendly smile. "It's good to see you. Well… not _see _you, but…" she shrugged. "Loki and I owe you thanks for your help in directing us the other day."

Helblindi inclined his head.

"I would have thanked you then," Sif went on, "But my breath was freezing in my lungs. Was that temperature usual, or did we just pick a bad time to visit?"

Loki stared in amazement. Sif had always claimed she'd been raised to behave like a civilized lady, but he had never seen it until now.

"Jotunheim is always cold," Helblindi said. "Aesir would rarely be comfortable there."

"Aesir aren't comfortable a lot of places," Loki put in. Better to steer the conversation himself; otherwise, who knew what the Idiots might say? "Remember the time we tried to go to Muspelheim?"

"Aye." Volstagg rolled his eyes, chuckling. "Thor's fault, that."

"Actually, the idea came from that one right there." Thor pointed with his mug to Loki, and then drank deep. "Like most bad ideas of our youth."

Sif snorted. "I believe it. Because I remember that when our hair caught fire and our armor started melting, _who _again was still standing safe by the portal? Didn't cross the threshold at all, as I recall."

Loki shrugged. "I think I may have put a toe in."

"Your cousin's a terrible menace," Fandral said to Helblindi. "Always has been. This is the _friendliest _I've seen him, though," he said, with a touch of seriousness. "You're good for him."

"Oh, stop," Loki protested.

"You are. I'm glad you've come out with us," Fandral went on. "Maybe you can teach us a drinking song we don't already know."

Loki worried that Helblindi would not like to be put on the spot, so he intervened. "My cousin is almost as sparing with his words as the real Hogun. Let him alone – if we need singing we always have Sif."

"We'll see _you _sing when I kick you in the balls," Sif said into her glass, then looked up to give Loki a serene smile.

Helblindi growled laughter – a strange, alien sound coming from Hogun's chest. "There is a way to ice over your soft parts for protection, child," he purred. "Perhaps I should teach you."

"_What?_" Fandral banged his drink on the table. "There are _so many _questions I need to ask about that."

Laughter all around. Loki was amazed how easy it was, how the circle of Thor's friends had expanded effortlessly to include a total stranger – and not just any stranger, but a foreigner. An enemy. A Jotun _monster_. How was this possible? (And if it was so easy, how had he never been able to get along with Thor's friends himself?)

Loki was powerfully jealous all of a sudden, but he held his tongue. _It would be worse if they **weren't **nice to him,_ he reminded himself, and tried to just be glad.

* * *

It was only once the warriors left, leaving Loki alone with the drunken princes (prince _and king, _he reminded himself, even though the thought of Thor as King still jarred), that things grew more difficult.

"Can't you take that spell off him," Thor complained thickly, gesturing. "It's difficult to talk face-to-face to someone who's not actually wearing his own face."

"Oho, is it?" Loki laughed. Thor didn't seem to understand anything by the comment. "Very well. Helblindi, if you like, I think I can shield us." The table was not so loud now, and the tavern's other patrons were drunker and less observant.

Helblindi shrugged. So Loki magicked a haze around them to keep them safe from notice, and then uncast the disguise.

The giant took a slow sip of mead and licked his lips. "This drink tastes better now."

"Perhaps Jotun taste buds are less discerning," Loki mused. "Or perhaps you're just more drunk."

Thor looked from one to the other. "It's so strange, Loki," he said. "You know. That you're…"

"Indeed." What little social grace Thor had vanished completely when he drank. How had Loki overlooked that critical fact? This evening was a terrible idea.

"So you two are family," Thor went on. Sipped. "And he's older. Helblindi! Did you know Loki as a baby?"

Loki slapped himself in the forehead. "Thor, don't."

Helblindi cocked his head in question and Loki did his best to produce a forbidding look. It was not sufficient.

"I did," the giant said at last.

"How was he? Tell me about my little brother."

Helblindi threw one more look Loki's way, then settled back in his seat. "Awful," he rasped. "I cannot imagine a child more troublesome, of any race."

Thor snorted. "Go on. I want to hear this." He reached across the table to take Loki by the shoulders and shake him, and Loki tolerated it because if he resisted Thor might well get up and force him into a full-fledged hug.

He rolled his eyes and finally waved permission for the storytelling. Clearly, it was going to happen whether he gave permission or not.

"He had an angelic smile," Helblindi explained, smiling a little himself. "People would want to pick him up, and hold him close."

"Oh, how _darling_." Thor reached to pinch his cheek, and this time Loki slapped his hand away.

"… And when they did, he would shapeshift," Helblindi continued. "Into a slavering beast with fangs and claws."

Loki was surprised into laughter. "I like that!" His baby self sounded delightful.

"Your caretakers did not. You gouged chunks of flesh from every one of them. You made unholy screaming noises in the night, for the sole purpose of disturbing their sleep."

Loki could feel himself grinning like an idiot. "I'm sure they deserved it. Probably denied me candies or something."

"You once climbed the throne room wall, and iced yourself into a crack in the ceiling. It took two days to retrieve you; you would not thaw nor let go, and everyone feared breaking your fingers."

Thor was laughing too, and amazingly, Loki didn't mind. "Any idea why I did that?"

"You delighted in fuss and chaos. Laufey-King at last directed us all to ignore you, and then you came down."

He wished suddenly to see himself as a wicked blue baby. "Do you have portraits in Jotunheim?" he asked. "Is there a gallery somewhere, where I could…?"

Helblindi looked confused. "Portraits?"

"Paintings. Pictures. Statues, even. Do you have no way of seeing people from the past?"

The giant shook his head. "We see those people in memory, child. We need no pictures. And of what value is a likeness of what you do not remember?"

Thor's glass smashed to the floor, empty (again). "You Jotuns are so strange," he slurred. Boozy and affectionate. "Shall we have another?"

"No," said Loki.

"Yes," said Helblindi.

"We're _all _having another one," Thor decided. "You as well, Loki. I'm your elder brother, I can order drinks for you if I wish." He lurched to his feet. "But first I have to piss."

Loki watched him stagger away. "All this _elder brother _business," he said quietly to Helblindi. "I rather think he's jealous."

"He has more cause for jealousy than he knows."

It was one of those Jotun not-questions again. Loki made a face and answered it. "He knows that you and I are blood-related, but no: he does not know how."

"Mm." Helblindi tipped his head back and poured the rest of his drink down his throat. He was quiet a moment. Then: "I will tell him."

"_What_?" Loki choked on the sip he was taking. "No. No, cousin _please _don't do that. It will upset him – and me. He's still… we're still… Helblindi _don't_."

The crimson eyes gleamed in the dim light. Like gemstones. Or like little pools of blood. Loki could not read his face. "You are free to do what you like with your truths, child," he said calmly. "You may hoard them if that is your wish. But I am free to do what I like with mine."

"Why?" Loki pressed. "What good can that possibly do you, what benefit could you possibly-"

He was interrupted by a shower of mead. "Hello, friends!" Thor had returned, with large mugs, spilling everywhere.

"That was fast," Loki said. He took his drink and began to gulp at it. Perhaps he could make himself drunk enough not to care.

"Well, the street is not far from the door." Thor clunked glasses with Helblindi and started drinking as well.

Loki had chugged only a few swallows' worth, though, when a sudden panic overtook him and he had to lower his glass and gasp for air. _No no no no no, _he told himself, loudly, but he could hear the voices anyway. _Drink, Loki. You did not finish._ He ached, those phantom cramps he had come to know so well… or perhaps this was _real _pain this time, brought on by guzzling too much alcohol over the course of the evening. Surely that was all. His stomach heaved weakly… but he rode it out, and when it was certain he was not going to throw up he sat back with a satisfied sigh. There: he was recovering his ability to make himself ill with drink. Excellent.

Thor was sitting back too, having drained most of his glass already. "Do you have children of your own, Helblindi?"

Helblindi's gaze lowered at once. He looked deeply, immensely sad to Loki's eye, and even Thor was able to tell that something was wrong.

"I- I meant no offense," Thor added quickly, "I don't know your age, or, or if it's usual for, for your kind to-… I don't know what I'm talking about. I beg pardon. I only wondered."

Helblindi toyed with his glass. "No. I would not be allowed," he said quietly. "I am not fit to have children."

"What? What does that mean? Says who?" Thor pressed.

Helblindi was clearly in distress, and Loki knew it was not kind to pursue this topic. But it was better than letting him tell Thor about their shared parentage, so… "Forgive our ignorance, cousin – we don't understand. In Asgard anyone may have children, fit or not. Would you explain?"

"I was too young to fight in the War," Helblindi said down to the table. "I was to care for my small brother instead. I failed to protect him when the Asgardians came. It was decided that I should never have charge of a child again."

So much for not discussing the shared parentage. _Small brother_ could only mean… "You were-…? Were you there? Did you see what happened?"

Helblindi nodded.

"My friend, I am so sorry." Thor's voice was thick with more than drink. He reached out to clasp Helblindi's shoulder, and steam rose from his hand but he either did not notice or did not care. "I cannot imagine feeling the pain of losing a brother. The idea alone tears at my heart."

Loki leaned over to separate them. "Let _go, _you idiot," he snarled. The burn was severe and he was still shielding the table from prying eyes, so he had to pull hard for power to heal it. Afterwards he felt himself starting to weaken. "We should leave," he said. "If my spell fails we'll have a riot on our hands, and I'm getting tired."

They rose. Thor attempted several times to embrace Helblindi, who had grown too uncoordinated to control his body temperature at all, and it took all of Loki's attention to keep them physically separate from one another during the walk back to the palace. By the time they finally arrived, he was exhausted and the liquor had gone firmly to his head.

"May I take you home in the morning?" he said. "I know you meant to leave tonight, but gods help us if I step into the ether and get lost."

Helblindi chuckled. "Wisdom. I will chill a corner for sleep."

Loki helped him, and together they clumsily, drunkenly froze part of the bedroom.

"Loki," Thor complained from the bed, half-asleep already, as snowy air swirled over him. He flailed for blankets.

Loki climbed in next to him and waited for the world to stop spinning.

"Make it warmer," Thor was whining. "And remind me to talk to your cousin again in the morning. I want to talk to him again. I'm not done talking to him."

Loki warmed the space under their covers and assured _of course of course,_ but he decided that there would be _no _further discussion between Thor and Helblindi under any circumstances.

It took him some time to fall asleep; it turned out that two sets of snoring was even worse than one.

* * *

TBC.

Sorry this one took so long! I was super busy last week. Also, I was playing with the Thor/Loki scene for a while, trying to get it into Loki's POV… but I really wanted Thor's view on his Dragon Adventure, so…

Next chapter: Thor lets the cat out of the bag. Jotuns do what Jotuns do.


	32. Family - Chapter 10

**A/N: This chapter got way too long, so I broke it into halves. This half is Thor attempting diplomacy, sort of. And next chapter is Helblindi tellin it like it is.**

* * *

_…You can still hear and see what transpires around you. Even though nobody can hear or see **you**. Loki. Can you hear me? Loki-_

"-do you wake? Loki?"

Loki jerked up, registered _frost-giant_ and lashed out wildly with magic. Helblindi was flung backwards through the air – Loki was already apologizing – and landed with a crash. Thor awoke in the commotion.

And the bedroom door flung open. In rushed a guard. "My king? Prince Loki? Is everything-" The guard's jaw dropped at the sight of a frost-giant in the palace of Asgard, rising to its feet, in the very bedroom of the king. He started to draw his sword, and Loki felt the temperature drop as Helblindi prepared to defend himself. He heard ice-blades forming.

"Stop," he barked, and threw the covers off. He jumped down to the floor and in two strides was between them. "_You,_" he growled to the guard. "You woke us. King Thor is sleeping off a party last night; how _dare _you wake him before he is ready."

The guard's eyes darted back and forth. Loki. The giant over his shoulder. Thor. Loki. The giant. _Loki_.

Very gratifying, to know that he could terrify even better than a king or a Jotun when he wanted to. He advanced, and the guard backed out through the doorway. On a flash of inspiration, he gestured behind him. "_That's_ the last guard who disturbed our rest," he said. "Do you like what I've done with him? Shall I do it to you as well?" He started to transform himself, and let out a low rumbling laugh at the guard's expression of horror. "I think it's rather fun."

The guard dropped his weapon and knelt so fast the floor shook. "Loki please. Please forgive me, I did not- I did not mean-… please, prince please have mercy."

Stuffing himself so quickly back into his own skin hurt, but Loki wasn't quite brave enough to parade his Jotun form through Asgard just yet. So he grit his teeth and did it, and once he was firmly small and pale and Aesir again, said: "Shall I turn you into a mouse instead?"

"Please."

Despite the disaster that had nearly unfolded, Loki was feeling amused. "Please turn you into a mouse? Or please _don't_ turn you into a mouse? Did you have another creature in mind? How would you like to live out your days as a dwarf?"

"Loki." Thor was finally out of bed and beside him, hammer in hand. In his underwear. "Don't torment him, brother. And you." He reached down to tap sharply on the guard's helmet. "My brother's point is a valid one. Whatever business you have can wait until after I've dressed."

"I-… my king, I only, I heard a noise, a crash…"

"Oh? And are you my mother, to tell me that I may not make noise and disturb the household?"

"N-no, my king…"

Loki cleared his throat. "I could _turn_ him into Mother, if you like," he suggested, but Thor cuffed him upside the head.

"Enough, Loki."

Loki pantomimed a key over his mouth and rolled his eyes. His Jotun skin was cold enough to burn. If he could learn the trick of that chill in his usual form, nobody would ever dare lay a hand on him again without permission. Hm.

Thor was standing with his arms crossed, rumpled and grouchy and still half-asleep. It was endearing, and Loki immediately decided against making himself untouchable, because then how would he and his brother ever communicate?

The guard finally dared to look up. "I am sorry, my king. My prince. I will never again enter your chambers without permission. May I…" he leaned over, still on his knees, to look past them. "May I take my comrade to the healers now? To see him returned to his true form?"

_That _would be interesting. Loki was sorely tempted to agree, just to see what the healers would make of Helblindi when all Reversion spells failed…

But he was feeling far too mature today to act on the impulse. "I am perfectly capable of undoing my own magic," he said loftily. "When I have finished chastising the poor man that's exactly what I'm going to do."

Thor gestured the guard to his feet. "You may go."

Loki smiled. "Now."

* * *

Once the door was safely closed again – and spelled, now that Loki was sober enough to do it – Helblindi relaxed. "I am sorry," he said.

"It was my fault." Loki winced. "Cousin, I apologize – you frightened me. I was dreaming."

Helblindi nodded. "Of Laufey-King. You spoke his name."

That could be problematic. He tried to sound casual. "Oh. Did I say anything else?"

"_Laufey, _and _please_. Nothing more." He shrugged. "I should return. My people will worry."

_Our _people, Loki almost corrected. For a moment he didn't like being excluded from the Jotun collective. Although on second thought he certainly didn't want to be a part of it either. "Of course."

"Thor-King." Helblindi gave a slow shallow bow. "It has been my honor and pleasure to visit your realm as your guest. Will you visit me in turn?"

"Yes of course! I'd like that," Thor said with enthusiasm.

Oh he _would, _would he? Hmm. "Come on, cousin," Loki said. "I'll take you home." And he grabbed _both _their hands, and pulled them all into Jotunheim together.

* * *

The cold hit like a wave. "Loki!" Thor doubled up at once, arms wrapped around himself, air frozen so hard he couldn't even breathe it in.

He was going to freeze to _death _here – freeze to death in his underpants. "Loki," he forced out again, harsh and cracking.

And then a hot wind whipped around him. "All right, all _right._" Loki's hands – in fur gloves now – sketched runes and patterns, warming a pocket of air. "Sorry about that. You _did _say you wanted to come, didn't you?"

Loki's look of contrition was entirely pretend, and his eyes sparkled with a mischief Thor had not seen in far too long. "Well, I thank you for granting my wish. Only perhaps I would have preferred to arrive fully clothed, given the option." He forced himself to stand straight, although his instinct in the swirling snow was still to curl up and whimper. "Prince Helblindi, I'm very sorry to have shown up at your home in such a state," he called over the blizzard. "It was not my intention."

Helblindi seemed amused. "My invitation was genuine," he said. The Jotun's deep voice carried effortlessly, clear underneath the whistling wind. "Be welcome." Then he turned to frown at Loki. "Give him your furs, child. Your true flesh has no need of them."

Loki bit his lip and Thor suddenly surged with protectiveness. Surely the giant _knew _how shy Loki was about his… state. It was unkind to press him with such language_._

So he cleared his throat. "Do as he says, brother," he said. "Or I'll freeze to death."

This reason sat much better, and Loki nodded and shed his layers without delay. "I'll spell some heat into this, it should keep you comfortable for a while," he murmured as he adjusted the cloak over Thor's shoulders. He gave him some pants. Magicked him boots. "There. Now, if you'll pardon me…"

He stepped back and _melted _himself away, and became a frost-giant. Thor did his best not to stare.

"Better," Helblindi said. "Your face suits you. Now come – I will introduce your brother."

Thor followed, struggling a little through the soft knee-deep snow, paying so much attention to not falling that it was some time before he noticed the telltale sounds of roaring and banging that signified battle.

He listened closer. No – not battle. A duel perhaps, or perhaps only training. But it was a few combatants only, not the mass chaos of a real fight, and eventually his curiosity got the better of him. "Helblindi!" he called over the wind. "I hear warriors."

"We _are_ warriors." Thor caught a flash of teeth and decided that the giant had turned to grin at him. He hoped. "I did promise to introduce you."

* * *

The practice field to which Helblindi led him was one of the more beautiful things Thor had ever seen. The ground was a great flat sheet of sparkling ice, spared from the snow by high cliffs on either side. In the light from the moons, the cliffs were very white and the shadows very dark. Without the biting wind the cold was bearable here, and Thor was able to let his hood down to see more clearly.

Frost-giants were gathered in a circle, cheering and jeering at a pair of fighters in the center. When the fight was over, the combatants left the ring and a new giant took their place.

"Hugi! I call you out," it shouted. "And I speak the name of my daughter, who you defiled."

A second giant – Hugi? – stepped forward with a short little bow. "At her most urgent request," he murmured, and shifted into a fighting stance. "Let us fight."

They fought until one had the other fully at his mercy, knee on his chest and ice-blade to his throat. "I yield," the loser rasped, and was released. The giants clanked ice-blades together afterwards, like a toast, and returned to their places in the circle. Thor was already feeling the pull of the fight. These giants were _magnificent_ grapplers. They could throw each other through the air as if they weighed nothing, slam each other to the ground as heavy as solid stone.

"Aaaaand, Thor is enraptured," rumbled the g-... rumbled _Loki _from beside him.

Helblindi chuckled. "As I knew he would be." The prince stepped into the ring himself, just long enough to introduce Thor and name him guest, and then he and Loki moved off together to talk or do magic tricks or whatever it was people did who couldn't appreciate the finer things in life. Of which these giants wrestling was certainly one.

The next pair of fighters were brothers. (Sisters?). "I speak the name of our mother's love, of which you always had more than your share," one declared. After that came neighbors who had quarreled over a goat. One sorcerer who had stolen a spell from another. The Jotuns recited grudges at the beginning of every match, and though they hardly seemed more kindly disposed towards one another after the fights than before, it seemed an excellent policy to Thor. At least they knew now what problems were between them. At least they got to burn off some of their anger in honorable combat. (At least they wouldn't hoard up grudges and seethe with poison for decades!).

The giant nearest Thor was one of the ones who had fought over the goat. Some of the others were laughing at him now, asking him whether he'd stolen the goat to fuck it, calling him names like _Thief of Beards. _He seemed effectively shamed by the attention, so much so that he asked for no one's help in wrapping his wounds, and instead sat down in the snow to attempt to do it himself. Without thinking, Thor went down to a knee beside him. "Shall I help with that?" he asked.

The Jotun whipped around to face him, with a deep growl. Thor kicked himself for his impulsiveness and reared back, hands spread. "I meant no harm. I only-"

"I need no help."

"Of course, I-"

"-But I would accept if you offered it, Thor-King."

They looked at each other. "Oh. Well, I… offer it." Thor hazarded a smile. "What's your name?"

"Gymir."

The giant said nothing else as Thor moved around his back to press a cloth to his bleeding shoulder (carefully, for the skin was too cold to touch). But in the silence he soon grew uncomfortable, so he began saying whatever came into his head. "I like this contest. I rather wish we had it in Asgard. I would challenge one of my friends in the name of the meat he snatches from my plate when he thinks I'm not looking. I'd challenge another for having had lecherous thoughts about my mother. How's that? Shall I bind it this way?"

The giant nodded. He said nothing else – even when Thor was finished. Not a word of thanks. Nothing. That seemed a little odd, but Loki had said the giants did not speak much, so perhaps it was all normal. He returned to his place on the circle to watch the other fights.

A new giant stepped into the ring…

… And pointed directly at him. "Thor Odinson! I call you out." The crowd suddenly grew still and silent. Thor swallowed and hoped very much that Loki was paying attention. Or at least that Helblindi was. That _someone _was here with some gift for diplomacy. _You are as diplomatic as a bull in mating season, _Loki had told him, and it was true. He waited in silent panic for the Jotun to name his crime.

The Jotun showed teeth. "And I speak the name of your female's beauty, which robs me of sleep night after night."

A tide of low laughter rose up from the others, and Thor went dizzy with sudden relief. They were teasing.

He set his hammer down and stepped into the circle without it. "I'm sure Sif is heartbroken that she's not here to break your head for that, my friend. But I'll be delighted to act for her in her absence." He hesitated. "I will not be much good for wrestling if my flesh freezes on contact. Will you be careful?"

The giant came close, towering over him… but having stood his ground before Loki himself, Thor was not intimidated. He did not flinch in the least as an enormous blue hand approached his face.

"Does this satisfy?" the giant growled, and cupped his cheek.

… And then stroked it. "Darling?"

Thor hoped he was not expected to take taunting in silence. "I shall bring stories of your gentle touch back home to Sif, sweet giant." He lowered into a good strong crouch. "But sadly for you, it's warriors she likes to bed."

The giants approved, whooping and stomping on the ice. Even his opponent grinned.

"Let us fight."

The fight started well. But it did not last long – the giant pulled some of his more fantastic punches and made sparing use of his ability to spew ice, but still Thor was at a disadvantage on the unfamiliar slippery ground. He skidded once and lost balance, and before he could recover his opponent was on him. Heaving him up in the air, slamming him to the ground, yanking on his hair to expose his throat for a blade.

When the fine edge of ice burned his skin he knew a moment of fear. Just a moment though, before he came together enough to realize that the stinging was from cold only, that the giant had not cut him, _was _not cutting him, was only waiting patiently.

"I yield," he said at once. He let himself be helped to his feet. (The giants had lines etched in _their _feet, their rough bony feet… _they _certainly never slipped on the ice. His boots had betrayed him.)

"And I'm sorry about your eye," he added.

It had swollen almost shut. Which was an accident, really; Thor had crashed his shin into the giant's face while they wrestled, because he was so much taller than an ordinary opponent that it was hard to keep track of where all his parts should be. The giant shrugged. "It only pains me that I will see the Lady Sif less clearly next time she visits," he purred, hand over his heart. He laughed when Thor shoved at him. They had to improvise the ice-toast, as Thor had no ice-blade, but it seemed to suffice, and he retook his place in the circle confident that he had navigated the ritual as well as could be expected.

Feeling excited and sociable he turned to the giant beside him. "I really do like this contest," he said. "Is this always how you train, naming grudges?"

The giant shook his head slowly. "Not always, Thor-King. But this day all grievances must be known, and aired, and set aside. We must forge peace all between us."

Out of nowhere Thor had a very bad feeling. "Why?"

The giant smiled at him. "Because Helblindi-King leads us into war this night."

* * *

**TBC.**

**The next bit is basically done; you can expect it Thursday or Friday. Let me know what you think so far!**

**And as always, thanks for your comments. Thanks for your info on drinking horns. Thanks for everything.**


	33. Family - Chapter 11

**A/N: This is the second update this week, so if you haven't checked in a while you might have missed a chapter.**

* * *

Loki was not watching the fights. Instead, he'd drawn Helblindi off to the side, and thrown up a muffling wall of magic to keep the shouting and grunting noises from disturbing their conversation.

_Conversation _being a polite word for it really; Loki had some questions and he was not leaving until he'd had them answered.

"Last night you said you were there," he said straight away. "When Odin took me. Were you?"

Helblindi nodded.

"Can you tell me what happened." For some reason Loki couldn't steady his voice enough to make a question of it. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Please? All of it."

Helblindi looked to the stomping hooting crowd of giants… and then lowered his eyes. "I have told no one. Not even Laufey, who was my sire and my king."

"You haven't told? Well surely somebody noticed that a _baby_ had gone missing," Loki snapped, harsher than he meant to. "Or was I as little favored by my first father as by my second?"

"Laufey-King cared very much for you," he said softly. "When I told him you were taken he gave the finest funeral rites I have ever seen for a child. He wept to his shoulders."

A silly turn of phrase really, an exaggeration. It referred to the length of the icicle formed by somebody's tears. Star-crossed lovers were sometimes said to have _wept to their ankles, _and of course even a Jotun could not make a column of ice that long. Loki cleared his throat. "I'm sure he did."

"You are wrong to doubt him. I wish you had not killed him; he could tell you himself."

The bottom dropped out of Loki's stomach. "_What_?" He took a step back, felt himself gathering power instinctively. He had to run. He _couldn't_ run. Thor was here, there, surrounded by a _crowd _of frost-giants who were going to _kill _him because-

"Loki-Prince. There is fear on your face."

_Direct. Be direct; subtlety is lost on them; they're worse than Thor. _"I'm afraid you're angry with me. For… for Laufey. Because, yes: I did kill him."

"I grieved for Laufey." Helblindi shrugged. "But there is no cause for anger. You were king of Asgard; the Jotun king was your enemy. How did he die?"

_Looking at me with betrayal and surprise. _Or: _pointlessly; I wanted to prove my loyalty, but no one cared. _But he met Helblindi's eyes squarely (people didn't call him the God of Lies for nothing!) and said: "I obliterated him with a single blast of Odin's spear – it was clean and honorable."

"There was no insult in his death." A question.

"No. None." Loki let out a breath. He'd been living in dread of them finding out, all this time, and they had known already! At least, Helblindi had. "Do the others know? How did you find out? How can you not _loathe _me? That was your father."

Helblindi answered the questions dispassionately. "No one knows; it is not my truth to tell. Laufey warned me he might not return; all depended whether you felt more hatred for your Aesir family than for him. I would not loathe you for having slain an enemy."

Loki was still trying to catch his breath. Panic had made him dizzy and his head had not yet cleared.

Helblindi reached out and put both hands on his shoulders, a brief bracing touch. "But Laufey has had his rites and he is gone. We need speak no more about him. You had questions, before."

Loki swallowed and tried to remember what they had been talking about. Ah yes – kidnapping. "The day I was taken," he said. "I want to know what happened. Please tell me. And I'll… I'll answer any questions you have in return. Honestly. I'll tell you anything you want." A truly insane offer, he realized at once, and yet he hoped Helblindi did take him up on it. What other secrets might his cousin absolve? He had not felt so safe, so light, in _months._ Not since he had come to know what kinds of penalties his secrets could earn.

"I have told no one."

"Well… please tell me. These are my truths too, cousin."

Helblindi let out a deep rumble – a sigh? – and capitulated all at once. "I had been given charge of the baby," he began. "Told to take him somewhere safe. The temple. Away from the battle. I did so." He took a breath. "I worried – for my my people and my land, but also for my brother. So I asked the priests to perform the rites and summon a seer, to look into the baby's future. I have no great skill in magic," he added, "But I have some, and I helped. We lay the runes, we lit the fires, we chanted the songs. The seer began to prophesy."

He paused, and Loki could hardly breathe with the tension. "And? What did he say? Forget the kidnapping; I want to hear what-"

"Terrible things," Helblindi interrupted hoarsely. Hoarsely even for a Jotun. "The baby would attract the ire of Odin Allfather. Atrocities would befall the baby; they saw his limbs rent, his flesh burned. _Burned._" The word rolled slow and deep through the air. "You must understand," Helblindi said. "In Jotunheim there is no fire, save ceremonial flames that are small and weak and soon extinguished. Burning is an unthinkable fate, a horror… and they foresaw it for the baby I was supposed to watch over. Some of the visions I saw myself. Glimpses. Screams."

He seemed genuinely upset, which was uncomfortable, so Loki started talking quickly to get them over the moment. "Yes, well, your seer did an excellent job; as I've told you that actually did happen to me, but look: I am fine. Here I stand, whole and well and hardly the worse for wear – unless you count that my mind is full of horrors and I'll never trust my family again. No no no. Helblindi. I'm joking. Honestly."

But Helblindi didn't cheer up. He had been carrying these horrors his _entire life,_ Loki realized suddenly. The horrors – and crushing guilt to go with them. And he had _never told, _until now. Which meant nobody had ever told him: "Look, none of it's your fault," he said bluntly. Refusing to get emotional himself. "You know that, don't you?"

Helblindi didn't answer.

"You were a child, and, and apparently it's all been decreed by fate anyway. Hm?" A ridiculous idea. Jotunheim was being torn apart by Asgard, of _course _the seer would see Odin Allfather tearing the Jotun prince to pieces. But laughing at the idea would not calm Helblindi, and Loki really did want the rest of the story. "Go on," he urged. "Please. I want to know what happened. The priests were…" _Panicking and hallucinating. "_…Seeing the future. And then…?"

Helblindi stood motionless for a long moment, but at last went on. "And then, just as the rites were finishing, there were noises at the doors. The doors burst open. Aesir warriors _and the Allfather himself._ After what we had just heard…"

Loki nodded. "You must have been terrified." _And you ran away and abandoned me to the slaughter, just as Odin told me._

But Helblindi shook his head. "We went berserk. The priests fought. _Priests._ Untrained for combat, very old and very young, not a single fighter among them save me – a child of seven. But we fought, ferociously, and we slew many." His voice was still even. "But we were no match for them. When I saw the last priest fall I ran to the altar, but Odin Allfather was already there._He had the baby_." Helblindi took a breath. "After the words of the seer I knew what I had to do. I still had my throwing knives."

"You _attacked _Odin? As a _child_?" Loki's first memories of Odin were of a towering _mountain_ of disapproval and he still remembered wetting himself in terror when he broke one of Odin's vases. Odin hadn't even _done _anything to him, had only stood over him glowering while Frigga fussed, but the cold painful pit in his stomach had left a lasting impression.

His mind fit pieces together into an impossible (but impossibly appealing!) story. "He has a Jotun throwing knife," Loki remembered. "He's kept it, from the War he says. It's the knife that put out his eye."

Helblindi shifted restlessly. "Does it have two chips of red stone in the handle? Marks like this?" He touched one of the swirls on his cheek.

Loki's jaw dropped. "_You_ put out Odin's eye? For _me_?" His voice cracked – he hadn't known Jotun voices could even _do _that. His stomach felt strangely fluttery, but he ignored that and focused on controlling his voice. "Helblindi, I cannot even tell you how impressed I am. I think you're the best big brother anybody has ever had. Don't you dare tell me you're-"

"You misunderstand." Helblindi cut him off and looked away. "A child would have no prayer of slaying the Allfather. This I knew." He paused and Loki didn't interrupt. "But I had sworn to protect you, and I would not abandon you to a terrible fate."

Loki suddenly felt much less warmed. "Ah. So you decided to kill me," he said briskly, "but you had poor aim. Well, you were seven. I suppose it's forgivable."

"I had excellent aim." Helblindi finally met his eyes. "But the Allfather saw me throw. With his arms full he could cast no magic, but he bent over the baby to shield it with his body instead. My first knife fell on his armor, and my second took his eye." Loki didn't know what to say. "It made no matter. He cracked my skull, and took my brother anyway."

"Odin never was the forgiving type."

"So have I always believed," Helblindi agreed. "I awoke with my wounds closed by a foreign magic. I thought the Allfather had healed me as punishment – he had denied me the peace of the snow, forced me to live with my grief and shame." He shrugged. "But when I learned he had raised you as his own, I began to doubt."

"It's… sometimes difficult to tell what Odin means as cruelty or not." But that sounded too much like he was _defending _the old bastard, which he was most decidedly _not, _so he added: "You know… he told me he loved me half a dozen times when he sent me off to…" He gestured vaguely. "To the rending and burning thing." He shrugged. "I don't know why he spared you. Perhaps he had a soft spot for Jotun rugrats."

He had more questions. Many more. But before he could ask they were interrupted by somebody bellowing his name. "Loki! Loki, brother, where are you? _Loki_?"

Loki cleared the charms away from them and waved – it sounded like Thor was panicking, and for Thor to panic…

"What's the matter, Thor?"

Thor looked at him hard a moment, eyes moving over his forehead, his cheeks. Identifying him. "Loki. We have to-…" But he stopped abruptly when his eyes fell on Helblindi. He hesitated, then went on: "We have to stay together, brother. I didn't see you, and I… worried."

Loki winced. He had now upset _both_ his brothers in his selfish quest for answers, and as he had no intention of turning into Odin thank you very much, he nodded and immediately battled his curiosity down under control. For the time being at least.

"He's right, cousin. I shouldn't have run off." Thor still looked uncomfortable, antsy, so Loki smoothly made their excuses. "I think we've tested the peace far enough for one day, brother – don't you? Perhaps we ought to go home."

Thor nodded, visibly grateful. He squeezed Loki's hand hard enough to hurt as they said farewell and stepped into the ether.

* * *

TBC.

Happy Thanksgiving all.


	34. Family - Chapter 12

So, the frost-giants were going to war.

Loki wasn't surprised_, _not really. Helblindi had impressed on him that Jotunheim was always at war; being at war was just something Jotunheim _was._ The problem was not necessarily as urgent as Thor seemed to think. "Don't you remember _anything _about the sun on Jotunheim, Thor?" he'd snarled. "_This night _can mean anything from a couple of hours to a couple of years." Thor had not relaxed – in fact had looked quite suspicious. "And Helblindi's not stupid – they're still rebuilding. I'm sure they'll raid a little here and there, yes – we might lose a couple of elvish villages or something, and won't that be sad, but." He shook his head. "They have nothing to gain by attacking Asgard now – they have no chance. They're just… looking forward to it. What else have they got to do?"

But once Thor had gone away, Loki dropped the act and gave himself free rein to worry a little, and more importantly, to feel _hurt._ Helblindi hadn't told him. Hadn't trusted him. (_He hadn't trusted a patricide-regicide-hospiticide? What **was **he thinking!_)

Loki hated it, because he had _just_ begun starting to think that maybe it was time to begin feeling a little trust himself – Helblindi didn't hate him for Laufey. Maybe he even knew about the Bifrost already, and didn't hate him for that either. Helblindi liked him enough to welcome stupid blundering _Thor_ for his sake; what better proof of friendship could there be!

Only now it seemed they weren't quite as close as he'd thought, because Helblindi had been planning a whole _war _he hadn't seen fit to talk about.

Loki hoped, sincerely hoped, that there was some truth to what he'd thrown Thor's way in annoyance. He hoped that the frost-giants weren't planning on attacking soon – not any time soon. Not until he'd worked out a way of keeping Thor out of the vanguard and Helblindi… as safe as a frost-giant king ever got in war.

Which, if Jotunheim took on Asgard and lost, would not be very safe. Of course, he could prevent that. If he wanted to, he could solve the Jotuns' military problems all by himself. He toyed with the idea, and called forth the Casket to toy with it, too. It swirled at his touch, feeling cold and clean and _right… _but that was a betrayal Thor would never ever forgive. He slipped the Casket back into the ether and sat down to keep planning, in other directions.

He considered trying to talk everybody out of war, and for a moment got lost in a daydream about everything working out, Helblindi visiting again, openly, bringing a couple of little Jotun kids to tour the palace and get ward spells from their uncle. He would do much better than a half-baked prophecy, he would give them-

_Focus, Loki._ The voice cut right through his daydreaming and he straightened up. _Do you even remember the question?_ The resulting second of fierce panic sharpened his mind and he turned his attention – all of it – to thinking up a solution. Because this _would_ gut him if he got it wrong. The Casket of Ancient Winters was a powerful tool and Loki was a brilliant strategist, and if he took a side it would cost one of his brothers his life.

But, nights on Jotunheim could last for years. He told himself he probably had time to figure something out, and commenced pacing around the palace, shielded from notice so that people wouldn't disturb him while he brooded.

* * *

Thor swore his friends to secrecy and told them everything... and, incredibly, nobody demanded Loki's head. Rather the opposite: "The giants are wrong," Fandral said first, with certainty. "That's all there is to it, is that they're _wrong._"

Sif spoke up as well. "We know Loki cares for you, Thor – he was absolutely inconsolable when you disappeared. And we all know he _hates_being a giant. So why would he want to be their king? You must have misunderstood. What _exactly _did the Jotun say?"

He heaved a sigh. The words were burned into him; he could almost repeat the speech verbatim. "It told me that Helblindi was preparing to lead them into war. Then it talked of Loki: said that the son of Laufey was finally ready to take his true place, that he's wanted to sit on a throne for so long and now it's his time. That at last Asgard will have to give him up – give up _what you've taken, _it said, as if Loki is a, a rock that one puts in one's pocket. A _Jotun _rock." He shook his head, disgust giving place to wonderment as he added: "And the strangest thing, friends: it seemed to think that _stealing my brother_ would prove no obstacle at all to our friendship. It clapped me on the shoulder and told me it hoped to meet me one day on the field of battle. I said: _that will be your last day then, so don't hope too hard,_ and it _laughed._"

Sif shook her head. "Well, we knew frost-giants were strange."

"Aye." Volstagg. "They must be, as they've called _you _beautiful, more than once."

"Please. My friends, I beg you to be serious," Thor said. "We must decide what to do."

Fandral hissed. "I don't know what we _can _do. Thor, think about this. Loki is on shaky ground with many, many people. If you accuse him of treason – if you even suggest it – whether or not he's proven innocent his reputation may never recover. Not once people find out what he _is_."

"_Proven innocent_?" Thor did not like the sound of that. "What do you mean? Are you suggesting that I call him out in public, demand a trial?"

They all jumped in at once. "_No_!" "Thor, no," "Are you out of your mind?" "That sounds unwise."

"Good. Because Loki would never forgive me for that. We shall have to investigate this in private."

And then, horror of horrors, a _laugh._ A loud bitter laugh, _Loki_'s laugh, and suddenly Thor could see his breath as the room's temperature plummeted.

"By all means," Loki said, shimmering into being beside him. "Let us investigate. Perhaps I can help."

* * *

Most of the Idiots at least had the grace to look embarrassed, but Thor stood with his arms crossed. "So you were spying upon us," he accused. "Once again. Then, you know what we were talking about. What have you to say for yourself, brother?"

"First, it's not what you think," he began, then winced, because he sounded _awful, _rushed and defensive, and of _course _Thor wouldn't believe a single word out of his mouth.

Especially, because: what would those words be? _I'm sorry, Thor, but the frost-giant currently threatening the realm is actually my brother. Yes, I've been keeping it from you. Oh and also he once poked out your father's eye because of me. Sorry about that._

So Loki stayed silent, trying to figure out what to say…

"Well? It's not what I think? Then what is it?" Thor pressed. Not sounding particularly patient.

Loki groped for words… but amazingly, for once in his life, other people took his part. "Thor!" Sif snapped.

"Don't take a tone with him until we know he did something," Volstagg agreed.

Hogun snorted. "Until."

Fandral slapped his hand against the wall to quiet everyone down. "Nobody's accusing anybody. All we know is that the Jotuns are going to war, and that they have some strange thoughts about Loki. That's it! For all we know they're plotting to _kidnap _him. We really need to think this through."

Thor was still glowering. "I would like to hear explanation from Loki. Not guesses from the rest of you."

"_Thor_." Sif again. Then she sighed. "Would you please excuse us a moment, my king?" That took everyone aback, and before they could recover her hand was on Loki's arm and she was leading him away.

In the hallway, Loki shielded their conversation with a charm and finally found his tongue. "Are you sure it's safe to be alone with me?"

"Stop it," she said firmly. "This is only going to get worse if people don't grow up." She took a deep breath. "Thor is jealous. He's jealous of your new friends, and when Thor is jealous he gets hurt and angry and he behaves with even less sensitivity than usual. You know that."

Loki shrugged. Having never been the object of Thor's jealousy before he could not really comment, beyond: "He accused me of treason."

"No – he doesn't realize what he sounds like, and how unfair it is. Take this from one who knows, Loki: he doesn't mean it. He'll hate himself when he realizes how he's hurt you."

"He hasn't _hurt _me." Petulant and pathetic. Thor might have believed it but Sif rolled her eyes at him openly.

But at least she moved on without pressing the point. "Just talk to me, so that I can have your back. Any idea what's going on?"

He couldn't bring himself to tell her everything. All he would say is: "I've had my fill of being king of Asgard. And I have no intention of seeking the Jotun throne – that's absurd."

Incredibly, she seemed to _believe _him. "So why do they think otherwise? A stupid guess? They know that you like Helblindi, and that Asgard has never been kind to you. They must think that they can offer you everything you want – friends, family, a throne. I suppose they think you would come willingly."

It seemed plausible. He wove a lie quickly. "Jotuns _are _notoriously weak in empathy," he agreed. "It's entirely possible my cousin's been misreading me." His mind bubbled with helpful details. "Thor told you of how Helblindi picked a fight with him, yes? To force me to choose between them, to see what I would do. I feel terrible about this but I _did _side with Helblindi at the time. That, and… well, they know that the Allfather _did _things to me, and… of course they'd assume I'm willing to join their cause." This was better – much better. He would deal with accusations of treason. He would much rather field that suspicion than tell Thor that the title of _brother _he so treasured not only did not belong to him, but actually belonged to another. To a _Jotun. _He shivered.

"But… you're _not_ willing to join their cause," Sif prompted. "It's all a misunderstanding. Right?"

He met her gaze with his most wide-eyed sincerity. "Right."

She nodded. Believing him? "Let's go explain to the others."

They did. There were apologies all round for doubting him… but he thought he could still see doubts in their eyes.

Fandral said brightly: "So, we just need to tell them that Loki's not interested."

"How can we make them believe us?" Hogun asked.

_Tell them about the Bifrost_. Before someone could suggest _that_, Loki nodded and plastered an overly serious look onto his face. "Well, it would be best if the Jotuns saw that I was _actually _unavailable to join their cause. Perhaps we should kill me in front of them."

Volstagg snorted and followed his lead. "Aye, that could work."

But Thor barked, "Enough joking, brother! Volstagg, you as well."

Volstagg would not be silenced. "Well, what are you going to do, Thor? Lock him away – _again_? The answer is simple: we tell them Loki is ours, and either they believe it or they don't. If they do: wonderful! And if they don't, I'm happy to go to war and lop off a couple of ugly blue heads to make our point. That's the answer." He made a face. "No offense meant, Loki."

"None taken," Loki said without really listening. He was too busy staring at Thor, who had started looking disturbingly thoughtful when Volstagg fired off the _lock him away _thing… and continued looking more thoughtful, and more troubled, as time went on.

Loki could _see _the moment the idea formed up. "_No,_ Thor," he snapped with authority.

Sif looked from one to the other. "No what?" she said.

"Don't even think it. I'll kill you first, brother. Or myself." The words were out before he could stop himself, and then he winced. Perhaps not the wisest thing to say, for a man currently under suspicion of treason. He tried to calm down.

Suddenly there was an arm around his shoulder – Fandral. "Come on, now: everybody take a breath. What's this about killing, hm? Loki?"

Loki threw back his head and laughed, because _fuck_ if he shouldn't have seen this coming. "Thor wants to send me back to the dungeons," he explained. "Apparently he didn't get enough the first time around. Though I don't know what more he could-"

"Loki!" Thor sounded miserable. "I was thinking they could hide you there. Keep you out of the Jotuns' reach, that is all. In comfort and safety. I- I only…" He drew himself up and spoke with more authority. "There is nothing wrong with proposing an idea, brother. I would never order you anywhere against your will. And I would _never_… that goes without saying, I sincerely hope."

Loki tuned him out as he mouthed his protests. Nothing wrong with proposing-? Oh, of course not.

"But, consider it," Thor continued. "Please. It would keep you… safe." He was inventing – desperately. And he was the worst liar Loki had ever was he really thinking – did he doubt his brother's loyalty after all? Better to lock him away than give him a chance to betray the realm again, was that it?

Loki didn't want to ask. And he didn't want to tell about Helblindi, either. And really, before long the Idiots might press one of them into saying something that couldn't be unsaid, or Thor might lose patience and put his foot down with something unforgiveable, and the surest way to avoid any of that was:

"Fine," he said quickly, almost in a panic. "No one touches me, no one touches my magic, I approve every paper before you sign it, and then fine, until someone sorts out what's going on with the frost-giants I'll go stay out of the way."

* * *

Loki was allowed to pack a bag this time – although he was assured that it was not necessary; clothes could be provided and the facility had its own library. (He wondered briefly about what sorts of things they might read there, and decided it was probably best to bring his own entertainment.)

The Drones who escorted him to the portal he had never met, but when he arrived, Drone Three was in the waiting area.

"Morning, Loki," he said easily. "I know you've seen the papers, but just to be clear: nothing's going to happen to you. This is not nearly the first time we've held people for safekeeping during political problems, it's completely normal and everything's going to be fine. All right?"

Loki nodded.

"You won't be harmed. However, you aren't allowed to leave or send communications without your king's permission." The Drone shrugged. "On the upside, that means that any trouble in Asgard while you're away, cannot be blamed on you."

He wondered who was going to be blamed in his absence, for every stupid little thing that went wrong in the palace.

"Also," Three went on, "You can't be kidnapped or liberated by force; there are enough secrets in our vaults that no kingdom would dare cross us, and if one did we are more than prepared to fight. So, you are hopelessly stuck here. And you'll have trouble with your sorcery; our space is heavily warded and a lot of magic will fail, or misfire. We prefer you not to use it. If you _must _use it, be careful and give us plenty of warning. Do you understand?"

He nodded.

"Then, come. I'll show you your room." The Drones left space while they walked, not crowding in on him to usher him along, but still. This place set him on edge, and he wasn't much in the mood to make small talk, and at last Drone Three said into the silence: "So, no helmet this time?"

"I imagine I've left it the same place you've left your courtesy," Loki shot back.

The Drone immediately straightened up. "I assure you I did not mean to offend. You often joke when you're nervous; I was under the impression it puts you at ease."

Loki blinked. Did it? "I also snap when I'm under stress," he said at last. "Forgive me." He was quiet for a bit, wondering he _did _joke to calm his nerves and wondering how the Drones knew that before he did.

"You have nothing to be nervous about, Prince."

The cool, distant formality was worse – far worse. "Please, _Loki _is fine."

"Of course he is, Prince." The teasing was back at once, and Loki found it a little disconcerting that the creature was apparently able to switch from friendly to professional and back again at will. Did that mean that at any moment the Drones might-

"This way." The Drone veered off into a side corridor, and opened a door by some mechanism Loki didn't see. "Please." He gestured Loki in, and when Loki went there was _that hand_ brushing his back, guiding him, and he shuddered. The Drone pulled away at once. "Ah, sorry."

The absurdity of a Drone apologizing to him for such a thing boggled the mind.

* * *

Loki's room this time was slightly larger than the room he remembered, with nicer furniture, but its sink and toilet were still right out in the open. When the Drones took up positions inside with him – the new one standing by the door, and Drone Three sitting in one of his chairs to read – he grew testy. "Please tell me you're not going to just _stand _there the entire time I'm here?" he snapped in Door Drone's direction.

"If you object to him just standing there," Drone Three put in, "He could do something else." And he looked up from his book with a bland smile.

Loki glared at him. (Or, tried to. It was hard to glare effectively with a chill running down his spine.)

"I'm joking, Loki." Really? There was a bit of an edge, now. "But just because it isn't _dangerous _for you to be rude to us, does not mean it isn't still _rude_."

A fair point. ((_And they had always been polite to him, even while-_)). "My apologies," he said, shutting his mind to thoughts of the Drones' civility. "Only, at some point I'll want privacy." He gestured to the toilet.

Door Drone passed hands over the wall in a pattern, and though Loki felt no magic in the room the floor began to glow and a wall shimmered into being. "Will that suffice, Prince Loki?"

The bathroom at least was walled off now, so Loki nodded and rummaged through his bag to find a book. But after another few hours of silence the presence of the Drones got annoying and he asked (politely, this time!) whether they would leave entirely.

They did, but then in the silence and solitude he began to have strange thoughts like what if he had only _imagined _that everything was fine and what if he was _really _here because-…

He had to bang on the door and call them back. Hating himself thoroughly for his weakness. Or his madness. Or both.

* * *

TBC.

Sorry, sorry, a thousand apologies for the delay. Work has been brutal and I took a break to write that Clint/Loki whip thing, but now I'm back! Next chapter's half-written already, so expect it in a couple of days. What's going to happen is, Loki will geniusly realize that he can't hide from the having-a-frost-giant-brother thing forever.


	35. Family - Chapter 13

When the Drones returned they took up their same stations: Door Drone stood by the door, Drone Three sitting at the table. Earlier Loki had been sitting on the bed, but in his short stint alone he had become too restless to read and had flung his book aside. Now he was pacing.

Drone Three looked up from his reading at last. "Do you want to go for a walk?"

Leave his safe place? Not likely. He shook his head, and stopped pacing. He glanced at the empty chair.

"Go ahead," Drone Three said, gesturing. "It's your room."

So Loki sat down opposite at the table, stealing glances at the Drone's upside-down book, wondering what it was. But he could make no sense of it at all. "What language is that?" he said at last.

"Ours." The Drone grinned. "It can't be rendered into the Alltongue. If I spoke in it or even said the name, you'd only hear gibberish."

"Oh."

A moment later: "Did you want something else?"

"Hm?" He had been staring. "Oh-... no, thanks. Sorry."

The Drone went back to his reading. Relaxed. At ease.

…Approachable. It occurred to Loki that he might as well take advantage of the situation where he could. "Excuse me," he said, steeling his heart not to pound when they made eye contact. "Could I ask a favor?"

Three put the book down. "Of course."

He had considered several possible wordings, but there was none that did not sound pathetic, so at last he just spilled it all out at once. "Since I left here I've been having some difficulties with nightmares and panics, and I've sometimes been able to control it by remembering your telling me to _focus,_ or _control yourself_, or the like. So: might I ask you to say a few more calming things for me? In the hopes that I can remember them later, when I need them."

"Ah." Three was quiet a moment. Then he nodded slowly... and then popped to his feet. "Certainly – come with me, I'll take you somewhere else. You don't want me barking orders at you in your safe room."

Reasonable enough. And it would get rid of Door Drone, who was starting to make Loki nervous by staring straight ahead in silence all afternoon. So Loki went with him, followed him down the hall. He tried not to feel like the corridor was pressing in on him, tried not to remember the sound of bare feet slapping on these floors. It helped to look down and see clean tiled floors, no bloody footprints, himself in boots.

"How about in here." Three pushed a door open and gestured Loki in. The room was pitch-black, and Loki's heart beat a little harder as the door closed behind them.

"Where's the-"

_CLICK._

The sound of the door locking was deafening in the darkness, and he choked on the rest of his sentence. -_lights?_

"The lights?" Drone Three guessed coolly. "Ah... here they are."

A soft click of a switch, and then, the lights flickered to life and Loki blinked and looked around and-

A wall of whips and pincers. Wooden frames with metal shackles. A single chair, bolted to the floor.

"_No-_" he choked out, but his throat was closing and the word was totally inaudible. He backed up, into the wall, into the door that was _locked_, and his chest was heaving but he couldn't breathe.

"Loki?"

He tore his eyes from all the equipment and looked desperately to the Drone – just barely hanging on, not quite together enough to manage speech. _The sight is too much, _he wanted to say, and _I'm falling apart, _and _Can we go somewhere else _and _Help._

"Mm-hm, good." It was crisp and businesslike. "Here we are. Now: take off everything you're wearing, and cross your wrists behind your back."

_Cross your wrists. Cross your wrists cross your wrists cross your wrists. Take off everything you're wearing, and cross your wrists behind your back. Cross your-_

He pressed harder into the wall behind him. His hands were scrabbling against it, looking for something to hold on to, anything, but the wall was smooth and his throat was closed and he couldn't move or speak but only

_Cross your wrists, cross your wrists cross your wrists. Strip naked. Loki. Loki. Loki-_.

"-Loki!" A sharp jarring pain got his attention and suddenly the Drone's face was right in front of his. "Focus. You aren't going to be hurt. Not touched at all. Come out into the hallway. That's right – this way."

The door opened, the fresh air helped but still Loki was falling against the wall.

"Here: chair. Sit down. You're safe. _Nothing_ is going to happen to you."

Loki sat – almost fell.

"Elbows on your knees, hands on your head, there."

Someone was manhandling him into position; he let it happen.

"Now listen to me, and do as I tell you." Cool and commanding. "I scared you on purpose and you can get angry later, but first, you're going to practice calming down now. Pay attention: first you need to breathe. Are you breathing?"

He was – but shallowly. He shook his head and tried to fix it, filling up his lungs hard.

But after a moment the Drone said: "No." His terror spiked – again. "You're not breathing out all the way. _All the way out,_Loki." He did as he was told, desperately. "Now suck in, and hold it. Good, now out. In... out. Forget everything else for now. Focus: in. Out. Like that, all the way. Keep going."

_In... out._ He could hear it. He nodded.

After a bit the Drone explained: "When you fall apart, that can help you come back. Are you breathing,now?"

"Yes."

"Oh, and _talking!_ Aren't you ahead of the curve." Loki could hear a smirk. "Good. Next, know what's going on – what's really happening around you. Tell me where you are." After a moment he repeated it, sharper. "_Where_, Loki?"

Loki pulled his scattered wits together. He'd been ushered out, put in a chair in... "Hallway." It was a hiss of air, almost a gasp... but still.

"Good. And are you safe right now?"

"Don't know."

"Yes you do – what did I tell you?"

"Don't know."

"That's a lie, Loki."

His throat closed.

"Ooh, didn't like that," the Drone chuckled, and Loki was distracted a moment with a stab of hate. "Don't worry, you're safe. Are you breathing?"

He had stopped. He managed to start again: _In... out._

"Well done. Focus on that a minute, take your time. Nod when you're lucid. I'll wait."

_In... out._ Was he lucid? He was lucid. He knew he was sitting in the hallway falling apart, at least. He nodded.

"Now: I told you, you're safe. Say it."

"'m safe." It sounded strangled and horrible.

"So put your head back together: what's your mother's name?"

"My- Frigga," he said, mind tripping over itself. "Well but she's who I _thought_ was my mother, I don't-"

"Right. Do you like raisins?"

"Ah- yes, in pastries at least, I don't often eat them by-"

"Fine. Do you have pets, now?"

"Pets- now?" he repeated. "No, I had a- a bird once when I was-..." _Not an answer,_ he realized, and finished in a rush with his heart in his throat: "But I, I don't have any pets now. No. None, no pets."

"You don't need to babble, Loki," the Drone drawled. "Just answer. What's the name of Thor's hammer?"

"Mjolnir." He said it at once, and didn't say anything else.

"Perfect. Can you sit up and look at me?"

Loki realized for the first time that he was still sitting braced on his knees and staring down at his boots. He jerked up, surprised.

The Drone was standing a ways in front of him, and squatted down to put himself at eye level.

"How do you feel now?"

"Fucking sick." But fully himself again, at least.

"That will pass." The Drone's look was flat and appraising, and Loki was suddenly aware that he was bathed in sweat and his hair was sticking out every which way because he'd been grabbing at it. He sat up straighter and started to put himself to rights, beginning to hate that he was being watched.

"Did you hear what you needed?"

_Suck in, and hold it. __Now out. _He let out a deep breath and nodded. Hated the watching even more. "Though being terrorized into incoherency first was an unexpected bonus," he snarled. "Thank you so much."

Three just shrugged. "Falling apart sometimes is nothing to be ashamed of," he said. "It's expected, really, given the severity and nature of your sessions."

He'd forgotten: the Drones were not Thor. Thor would have met anger with anger when snarled at, and they could have had a nice loud argument instead of ever discussing his embarrassing overreaction. "Nature?" he said, to change the subject.

"It's one thing to pressure someone for information he's deliberately withholding," the Drone explained. "But you were cracked open – wide open – so that people could poke at your insides. That is different."

"Ah, I see. Thank you for the visual." Especially horrible because it was _true._

"Not to mention, of course, that it was your own father who sent you here."

Loki tossed his head. "Perhaps a minor complication," he agreed. He _had _to tease, otherwise he might cry. Self-pity was engulfing him out of nowhere: he _did _have it hard. When members of the _dungeon staff_ start expressing sympathy...

"Indeed. So please believe me when I tell you that your condition is not at all shocking. Now: can you answer one more question?"

_No. _But of course he couldn't _say _that. "Of course."

"What did I say to you in there to panic you? Repeat it."

Loki shook his head, hard.

The Drone heaved a huge sigh. "Am I going to have to patronize you, Loki?"

That actually made him _laugh._ He _was_ being silly – superstitious and ridiculous. These weren't the words of a magic spell; they should have no power to instantly render him terrified. He swallowed. "You told me to take off everything I'm wearing and to- and to cross my wrists." He tripped just once. Not bad.

"That's right. Stand up." Loki did it, warily because he knew what was coming. Three kicked the chair away and he flinched at the sudden banging scrape over the floor. "Here it is again; listen."

_No. _But he nodded.

The Drone said it again, polite and professional. And then other things, things he remembered. Ordered him to sit and stand and pay attention. Reminded him it was policy to go naked to the dungeon, to be _prepared,_ to be _interrogated_. Asked a few questions, pressed him to _think_, accused him of lies.

More than once he needed to stop and regroup himself – but he managed not to plead for encouragement, or teasing, or _anything _other than: "Moment." And then the Drone would stop, and wait in silence while he told himself _In... Out..._until he felt less dizzy.

Eventually the Drone retrieved the chair. "Have a seat, please."

He sat, and it made his heart hammer, looking up at the Drone, or staring straight ahead at its buttons. But he could do it. In fact, he could do _more_. "One moment," he said, and in the silence took a long deep breath and then folded his arms behind the chair.

Ah... Perhaps he had overreached. Because now suddenly he was suffocating, and frozen, in a wide-open and vulnerable position he absolutely _could not-_

"Open your eyes, Loki," Drone Three said firmly, and then _raised his hand._

Loki flinched hard, closing his eyes again, hiding his face in his shoulder.

"Loki." And then _touching_ him, fingers under his chin, turning him to face front.

He _remembered _that, remembered it hard, and grit his teeth. As long as he could _see _it wouldn't be too bad...

But the Drone withdrew a step and did not touch him again. "Remember to breathe. Full name?"

"Loki Odinson." The words came from nowhere.

"Color of the walls around you?"

He checked, just to be sure. "White."

"And where are you now?"

"In the hallway." They had been over _that_ just a few minutes ago.

"All right. Who typically falls asleep sooner at night – you or Thor?"

"Thor – always. I hear him snoring."

"Are you breathing?"

Loki nodded – he was, this time.

"Then, enough." He waved his hand carelessly. "Let go. At ease, sit how you like. We are finished."

Loki clutched at his elbows tighter and didn't move.

"Truly, _honestly_ finished," he insisted. "Promise. I won't say another word."

Loki swallowed and tried to summon the spirit to sass. "Looming silently is... hardly more reassuring... than actually reassuring me."

Drone Three laughed outright. "And, _there_ is the Loki we know and love. Good to see you." He looked a little more carefully. "How are you feeling?"

Loki stood, and rubbed his hands to get rid of the annoying tingling. "Still unsteady." He shook his head. "I'll never be back to normal, will I." Was he ever _normal_? "To... how I was."

"You'll never _not _have suffered, no." _Thank you so much for pulling your punches, _he thought, and maybe the force of his sarcasm made the thought carry, because the Drone added: "But it's to be hoped that all this will become rarer, and milder, and easier to recover from. You're on the right track – the last time you came here, you fell apart when I said hello."

A bizarre thing to take comfort from, but Loki did his best.

* * *

Back in the room, they had an hour of silence before Drone Three set down his book. "Loki, why are you here? Out of curiosity," he added, quickly. "You don't have to answer if you don't want."

Loki shrugged. "Ask Thor."

"Unhelpful. We _know_ why Thor asked you to come. But why did you agree?"

He shrugged again.

"That's interesting."

"What?"

The Drone's turn to shrug. "We've _heard _the reason you gave your brother; that's not a secret. Yet now you are being secretive. So, that means there is another reason, and you're hiding it. What is it?"

Loki shook his head.

"Fine – I'll guess."

"I will not confirm or deny a single thing." He was proud of his answer, sharp and immediate. Even though his voice was shaking.

"You won't need to, Loki. I'll know." Drone Three folded his hands on the table and leaned forward. "I'll start with the most outlandish theory: your reason is political; you really _are_ working against Thor, and coming here is part of some elaborate preconceived plan between you and your allies."

"That's ridiculous. Do you really think-"

"Please." The Drone held up a hand for silence, looking overly grave. "As I said, your input is not required."

"So now you're going to interrogate me without actually allowing me to answer questions." Loki sat back in his chair. "That should be entertaining. Is it generally a successful strategy for you?"

"You tell me. I'll skip to the most likely explanation, which is that Thor unknowingly cornered you where you couldn't refuse to come without revealing a secret you didn't want to reveal. I find that frankly _fascinating_ – you were one of the most cooperative subjects I've ever worked with; there was almost _no _information you would struggle to hold back, no matter how unflattering, or embarrassing, or dangerous. So what secret are you now so desperate to protect?"

"I'm not-..." Loki made a face and gave up. "It's not a _secret; _Thor is going to find out anyway," he said at last. And then he glared. He had been _avoiding _that thought scrupulously; avoiding the realization that coming here was only a temporary solution. The look on Thor's face – that miserable, betrayed look – was coming eventually.

Or maybe not.

His skin prickled and a sudden wave of horror choked him as he realized that _Thor might not come. _Perhaps the discovery of the monster family Loki had hidden would be too much to tolerate, and all his promises about safety and rescue would fall to the wayside because who keeps promises to a traitor monster anyway.

"Loki?" The Drone prompted. "Breathing?"

"I'm fine," he choked out.

"You're not; you're on the verge of breaking down again," he said coolly. "What's the problem?"

"The problem is-... Moment." Loki took a deep breath and then another. "Thor is going to find out," he said at last, when he felt able to talk. "And I'm concerned that when he does he'll disown me or-, or worse." He had to know: "Now that I'm here... how easy would it be for him to...?"

"To...? Ah." The Drone shrugged. "If your king wanted to make modification to your papers, he would come and inform us. Don't worry; we would have a careful conversation with him and he would not... make rash decisions." That was reassuring; Thor was really only dangerous when he acted rashly. But still.

The Drone cocked his head. "Do you really think there's a chance your brother would do you harm? What exactly is this soon-to-be former secret?"

Soon-to-be former indeed. Why delay? "I'm the brother of the frost-giant king," Loki said shortly, "And I've passed from neglecting to tell Thor about it, to outright lying. Thor calls my brother _it; _he won't like learning about the kinship. He'll like even less that I kept it from him. Heavens know what conclusions he'll draw from _that._"

"I see." And then nothing more.

"Well?" Loki snapped. "Do you have anything helpful to say? Or how about _you_?" He turned to Door Drone, who was still just standing silent.

"The kinship is not your fault," Door Drone said in a tone of complete boredom. "The lying is, but King Thor will not likely punish you for that; he has known you for a liar his entire life."

Drone Three hissed with annoyance. "Thor isn't going to _punish _anyone. _Think_, Loki. Calm down and think."

Loki thought. If the Drones... did what Drones do... and demanded to know _do you think Thor is going to punish you_... he would have to say no. So... _what are you really afraid of?_

"I'm afraid that I've done serious damage to our relationship," he spat out, not realizing until afterwards that he had been answering a question no one else could hear. "I came here because I was dodging the consequences."

"Mm." Drone Three didn't sound surprised. "Is this the first serious betrayal between you?"

Loki shook his head.

"What generally happens afterwards?"

"Generally I do damage control afterwards," he snapped, "But I can't do that from here." He glared. Now it was all out in the open and he hated, _hated _Drone Three more than ever. He couldn't pretend not to know: "I need to talk to him before he hears it from anybody else. That's the only chance I'll get for him to listen with an open mind." He stood up. "I need to leave."

"Impossible." Door Drone shifted to stand more squarely in front of the door.

_Can't leave,_ Loki remembered, _and can't send messages_. But he needed to get Asgard's attention _now._

Ah. The answer came to him after just a moment of thought. "Asgard compensates you in some way for your services," Loki guessed. "Yes?"

Door Drone nodded at him.

"And I imagine the compensation depends on how many prisoners you take on, what you do with them, how much of your equipment they wear down, that sort of thing. Yes?"

Door Drone nodded again. "More or less."

Loki grinned at both Drones in turn. "In that case, I would like to deface your floor. Have some paint brought for me, if you would. And just add the damage to Odin's bill."

The Drones exchanged glances, and shrugged, and within a few minutes Door Drone had brought him a pot of paint and a paintbrush.

_**HEIMDALL:**_ Loki painted in big bold letters the size of his hand. _**THOR MISUNDERSTOOD; "SON OF LAUFEY" MEANT PRINCE HELBLINDI, NOT ME. **__**I CAN PROVE IT.**_

Could he? He thought hard. _**THOR AND HIS FRIENDS HAVE ALL HEARD HELBLINDI CALL ME "CHILD," **_he remembered at last._** THAT IS WHAT A JOTUN CALLS HIS YOUNGER SIBLING. **_Surely someone, somewhere in Asgard could confirm that fact? The library surely must contain _one _old volume about Jotun culture? Or surely _one _person had had cause to meet an enemy family during the War?

Well, he had to hope. Since he'd been so careful to keep the relation a secret, this was all he had. _**THE KING CAN RESCIND A CONTRACT AT ANY TIME, **_he reminded in conclusion. _**SEND HIM NOW TO GET ME OUT.**_

Loki regarded his work, satisfied. Heimdall would check in on him before too long, would see the message, would pass it to Thor. It would take some time to verify his words; at the very least Thor would have to speak to a librarian, get help poring over scrolls in languages he was too slow to read, but… Surely it would not be too hard to convince him. Helblindi had _said _in Thor's hearing that all he needed to ascend the throne was to lead the people to war.

There. So, release was now only a matter of a little time and patience. Loki apologized insincerely for all the mess, and sat down to wait.

* * *

TBC.

As always, lemme know what you think. And thank you all so much for the feedback so far!


	36. Family - Chapter 14

**A/N: Sorry for taking so long! The holidays are crazy.**

**On the upside, I just suffered through an office party and it inspired a brief one-shot involving Loki and Drone Three a few years after this story ends. I'm going to post it today, as a happyholidays/sorryimwritingsoslow present. It will be a separate story, and I'll call it Auld Lang Syne.**

* * *

Loki decided on a shower; he now stank of fear-sweat and the Drones had warned him against trying to clean up by magic. He went behind the new wall Door Drone had built him and turned the water on.

"Would you prefer us to leave?" Three called.

"_No_." The last time they left he had been terrified. Though of course he wouldn't admit that. In fact, he decided he had better say something else before it became apparent; he _had _sounded a little panicked just now. "Stay if you like," he called back as he undressed. "It would be a little silly to worry about modesty in front of you people at this point, wouldn't it."

He refused to consider the absurdity of yelling this over a barrier he had demanded for modesty's sake.

"Toss your clothes out; I'll have them washed. It's quick."

He did, and when a buzzing noise started up he peeked around to discover that Door Drone was operating a sort of nozzle from the wall that seemed to be jetting the leather with something invisible.

"What is that?" he said a few minutes later, back in the water. As long as someone was talking, he knew he hadn't been left in this place by himself.

But there was no answer.

"Hello?" He stuck his head out at once, heart in his throat... but he wasn't alone. Door Drone was still working on his pants. "Where's-... your friend?"

"He was called away. A message. He will return."

"Oh." Loki went back to his shower. Eventually the sound of Door Drone's washer ceased, and he heroically resisted the urge to look around the wall to make sure he hadn't gone anywhere.

...At least, he resisted the urge until he heard the hiss of the room doors opening. Then he gasped and practically threw himself into the room, flinging water everywhere.

But Door Drone wasn't abandoning him; instead, the door had opened because Drone Three had returned. "King's here," he said casually. "They tell me he's in the waiting room." His eyes flickered up. "You still have suds in your hair."

"Mm." Loki went back to rinsing. An arrival this fast meant that Thor hadn't even taken the time to verify his words; he had _believed _him, at once, and immediately rushed to undo the terrible injustice he had perpetrated. Which meant he_knew _he was wrong. Which meant he _was _wrong (Loki hadn't been entirely sure), and it _was _awful to have ordered him here, and Thor would be apologizing long into next century. "The king can wait," he called, nose in the air.

"Well, in the event Your Highness at some point sees fit to emerge, here is a towel." One was tossed atop the barrier and Loki grinned up at it.

"Thanks."

When he came out he put on his newly cleaned and pressed clothes, tossed his things back into his bag and looked around. Feeling, for a second, oddly reluctant. "Well. I suppose it's time?"

"Yes. We'll take you upstairs."

The walk upstairs was a positive pleasure: he led the way, head high, through hallways which no longer seemed half so intimidating. No one was going to lay a hand on him – and if they did, he would take it with calm and dignity and he would be fine. More, he was a Prince of Asgard, trusted and beloved, who had the king's ear and was in such high demand that rulers would fight over him and entire realms would go to war. He let his boot heels clack against the floor with authority. He would walk where he pleased.

Drone Three passed a hand over the final door and it hissed open. Loki brushed past him, not caring – even the stupid hiss of the doors didn't bother him any more.

His confidence lasted until he looked around the room and discovered that the king who had come for him was not Thor, but Odin.

* * *

"Father." It was out before Loki could stop himself. He winced. Stood straight, searched for a sarcastic half-smile. "You're looking… rested."

"There's no time for play, Loki." Odin did not, in fact, look rested. He had slept for months and yet was tense, almost harried. "Come with me – we're going home."

Loki edged away until he felt the Drones at his back. "What's the matter?" he said. Not thinking. Not _allowing_ anything to be the matter.

"What do you think?" Odin said shortly. "Thor is a fool."

"Oh, is he?" Loki sniffed. "That's news to me. What did he do?"

Odin stopped beckoning impatiently just long enough to explain: "He's in Jotunheim." His gaze was hard. "The Jotuns sent someone into Asgard to _fetch_ him. How did they manage _that_, I wonder?"

There was no _wondering _about it; the eye burned and Loki did his best not to squirm under it. It would be better to just take responsibility now, before Odin got any angrier. "Me," he said firmly. "I visited Jotunheim a number of times over the past few months. _With _Thor's approval – even one time with Thor." He shrugged. "I must have worn a path; I'm sorry. It would be small, though – I haven't opened the realm to enemy armies or whatever you're thinking." Odin didn't soften, so he went on. "Look, if a frost-giant comes and starts sneaking around the castle without being spotted, well, that means some guards are not doing their jobs. Not to mention our Guardian, who is supposed to be on the lookout for that sort of thing."

Odin was silent a moment. At last he admitted: "There was no _sneaking_. The giant stepped into the hall openly, made your brother a bow, and asked him to come to Jotunheim for a discussion with the king. When he gave a promise of safety, Thor agreed."

Loki swallowed. "Helblindi will- Their king will honor that promise."

"Oh?" Odin snorted. "What makes you think that? Is it because you _like_ him?" Loki had no answer. "Then, this is a lesson you need to learn the sooner the better:" He drew himself up. "That you like someone – love him, even – is no guarantee that he will deal honorably with you. For instance." He made a sweeping gesture in Loki's direction.

Loki felt a shift behind him and remembered that they were not alone. A Drone had... what? Crossed his arms, perhaps? He realized that although he was hemmed in by the creatures he did not feel intimidated; rather, just now the escort felt almost protective. In their midst he felt able to push a little further.

"Thank you for that, Father." He set his bag down on the floor. "You're making it seem so unbearably attractive to come home." Odin was glaring but that only incited him more. "In fact, I'm beginning to feel I don't _deserve_ the honor. Perhaps I'll just stay here until Thor comes for me after all."

"Attractive or not, honor or not, Thor or not: you will do as I tell you. We are leaving, Loki. _Now_."

After what Drone Three had done to him earlier, Loki couldn't quite muster up a feeling of terror over just a few sharp looks. Instead he stalled a little longer, just to rile. "You woke _up _for this? Did you really think Thor can't handle it? Though I suppose it make sense after all; without me there's nobody to ensure his head is on straight and of course we wouldn't want to let him get hurt or make any mistakes. So of course you woke up to watch over him. Who could blame-"

"Loki!" Odin barked. "Heimdall woke me at _your _request!"

Loki blinked. "What?"

"You wanted to be fetched away. You wanted the king!" Now it was almost a bellow. "Well, the king has come to fetch you. And so help me you'll come along without _one more word_ of opposition. _Is that clear, boy_?"

Loki hadn't been yelled at this way in years. Frigga had tried to explain it once, petting his hair, pretending not to notice as he wiped tears on her shoulder. _ Your father only shouted like that because he was frightened, Loki. You two could have been hurt, and he couldn't bear that – you're too important to him._

He had since come to understand that she was right: behaving like an enraged bear was the way Odin showed he _cared. _But why was he doing it now – what could have frightened him? There was nothing to be frightened about. Everything was going to be fine. Thor had said so.

Loki looked around uncertainly, half-hoping that the Drones would politely show Odin the door; he wasn't a signatory on this contract anyway…

But Drone Three murmured from beside him: "Better go, Loki."

"Thank you, but I know how to handle my own father," Loki hissed back, without taking his eyes from Odin's face. He wanted, suddenly, to ask about the eyepatch. Was it true that a little Jotun boy…?

But now was not the time. "Fine," he spat. "Fine, I'll come. But I don't see what the problem is – the Jotuns _like _Thor. This is one peace he'll be able to negotiate without-"

"_I_ will negotiate a peace, by giving them what they really want." Odin gestured impatiently. "_Come_."

_What they really want?_ Loki swallowed and stepped away again, bumping into a Drone with his shoulder. He tried for a bitter smile, but his lips only twitched briefly. "Do they want me as a prince or as a war criminal?"

"What?"

"I think it's only fair to tell me what you're delivering me to. A long miserable life holding court in a frozen wasteland, or a quick execution that I more than deserve? I think I'd prefer the latter, honestly. At least it would be-"

"_Silence!_" And, roaring again. "Would you put aside your stupid, petty, _childish_ hurts and _think_! For one moment." He shook his head, disgusted. "If I meant to trade your life for peace I would have done it the instant you used our Bifrost." His voice softened – he was probably just tired. "I grow weary of explaining this to you, Loki: you are my son, and beloved as such. You are not a bargaining chip."

Loki surveyed his feelings and found nothing but plain suspicion. "I don't understand," he said at last. "You're not going to hand me over?"

"I am not," Odin said shortly, and beckoned with authority. Confusion – and a tug of magic, which he heavily resented – weakened his resolve to be difficult, and Loki allowed himself to be led through the portal.

Safe in Asgard, in private, Odin finished his thought. "I will not hand you over," he said. "I am going to give them the Casket of Ancient Winters instead."

Loki blinked. "You want me to… give them the Casket? The thing that will power their armies to victory?"

"The thing that _would _power their armies to victory," Odin said, with a sly little smile. "If you and I did not enchant it first."

* * *

Loki had read all about these binding spells but never actually tried them. It took far longer than it should have, and still he did not get it right, until eventually Odin sat beside him and guided his hands through the motions. He allowed it, but as soon as he could he shook free. "I see, I see. Let me try it myself."

The next attempt was closer; it was actually a binding... but it was too weak. It tore like paper. Then, he corrected for that, but corrected too far so that he ended up with a visceral physically sticky mess that clung to Odin's fingers and glued them to the table. He lifted the spell with a great deal of irritation at himself. "Ah-. Sorry."

Odin chuckled. "I have missed you as a student, Loki. Your talent has always-"

"No."

Odin blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"I have no objection to civility but let's not pretend to any more than that." Loki wanted to sound matter-of-fact but he could _hear _the bitterness in his own voice. "With all due respect..." _It makes me ill to be this close to you._ But he couldn't get out the words. All he could do was shake his head and say again: "No."

Odin sat back. "As you wish," he said stiffly. _Offended._ Wasn't that rich.

Loki pressed on with the task at hand. "How do you want to do it?"

"I will lend my power to the spell, but I want you to cast the binding yourself. You have an... affinity for that article. Afterwards I'll mask what we have done."

"Mm." Loki stroked the Casket. "I do hate to give it up."

Odin shook his head with a sigh. "It's possible it will return to your care before long," he said. "If the giants do _anything_with it that concerns me..."

_He cracked my skull and took my brother anyway_.

But he swallowed that down and went back to learning to bind.

* * *

When he was ready they sat across a table from one another, the Casket glowing between them. Loki put his hands on it, unconsciously adjusting for the cold – and then straining to keep his own form while he did it. Odin set hands on top of his and they were so warm they hurt.

He took a deep breath. "If either of us makes a mistake with this spell they'll see what we've done, and they'll kill Thor."

"Yes." Odin sounded unconcerned.

Out of nowhere the image came to him of Thor in Jotunheim, in the wrestling ring. Only now it was so much more sinister, the mass of hard blue bodies surrounding the field, ready to jump in and-... "Father, they'll _kill_ him."

"I am not going to make a mistake, Loki." He sounded exasperated. "Are you?"

He shook his head. But the hot-and-cold was distracting, his hands _hurt;_ the Aesir body was not meant to bear temperatures like these.

Abruptly he pulled away. "I don't want to trifle with this," he said. "If I'm touching the Casket I had best do it in my Jotun form – in my _real _form. You can avert your eyes if you want."

"_I_ have never averted my eyes from your Jotun form, Loki." Almost reproachful. "I respect them. I cherished you."

Loki had already started shifting, and the snarl came easier once his face was hard and unfamiliar. But all he said was: "There. Let's try it again."

He set his hands on the Casket and let Odin cover them. Steam rose and it hurt, but Loki only glared and Would. Not. Wince.

Odin matched his look. Was it just as uncomfortable for him? Loki hoped so.

Power flooded into him unexpectedly and he began working the spell, crafting it carefully, using Odin's fantastic power to bind his lovely toy. It was a tight binding meant to withstand all manner of magical attack. It was well done, and he got it on the first try.

(His brilliant success made Odin look uneasy for a moment. He liked that.)

Afterwards Odin set concealing spells over the binding, fading Loki's work into complete invisibility. They set the Casket in the ether.

"And now we prepare to leave," the Allfather declared. "Go and inform Heimdall of our plans. I will bid farewell to your mother."

"Can we trade? I would much rather see Mother than-"

"_Go_, Loki."

* * *

"Heimdall." Loki's voice echoed through the observatory and only then did he realize he had neglected to change his form back. Well, he would have to hope that Heimdall recognized him anyway. "Odin and I are going after Thor. Have you seen him – can you show me?"

"No, my prince. The Jotun sorcerers are shielding him from my sight."

"_Priests_," Loki corrected absently. "It's their priests who shield."

"Priests, then. I have not seen Thor since his departure. I sense that he lives – the _priests _allow me that much. But I cannot see him."

Loki nodded. "Pay attention after we leave; if they're negotiating in earnest with us I'll demand that the shielding stop. If not – if things go poorly – the visit will be brief and bloody and we'll return soon."

"I know."

"You know?"

"The Allfather said the same thing to Lady Frigga a few moments ago."

And he was spying on them why? Ah: to verify the truth of Loki's instructions. Suddenly Loki was intensely annoyed. "I want to thank you," he said, and had never sounded less grateful in his life, "For reading my message from the dungeon and acting on it so swiftly." He came closer, into the light, slow and predatory… and was a little disappointed that he got no reaction at all. Heimdall was… Heimdall. "I didn't know you had the power to wake Odin whenever you feel like it."

"I can call to him in a way that others cannot. Sometimes he listens. But of course I cannot _wake _him without his cooperation."

"Mm. Why did you do it now?"

"To obey you. You asked for the king."

"You knew that I meant Thor," Loki snapped.

But Heimdall gave no ground. "Forgive me, my prince. Thor was occupied."

His only answer was a deep Jotun growl. He came closer again, _very _close, and finally at least forced Heimdall to tilt his head back for eye contact. "We have no time for games, Guardian. I demand honesty. _Why_?"

Heimdall did not hesitate. "Because I feared that Thor is too trusting where you are concerned," he explained. "In these dangerous times – for the good of the realm – I would not see you running unchecked."

Loki had expected as much, and heaved a deep wounded sigh. "Will you _ever _come to truly trust me?"

"I hope not, my prince." Heimdall inclined his head, almost a bow. "Asgard needs you as you are."

* * *

**TBC.**

**I'm not too mad at Heimdall for all this. It's his *job* to be cautious and suspicious, and he often sees Loki being shady - and often sees that Loki is hiding from his view. At least he didn't just ignore the message and leave him to rot.**


	37. Family - Chapter 15

_Asgard needs you as you are._

Loki turned the phrase over and over in his mind, wondering if there was some meaning to it that was _not _insulting, and, when he decided that there wasn't, spitefully determined that _as you are _literally meant Jotun and that he would represent Asgard blue. Anyway, for his own peace of mind, the less he resembled Odin the better. "I'm ready, Father," he rumbled from the doorway.

Odin's reaction was dissatisfying; he didn't bat an eye. "Take my hand, we'll travel together," he said. "You're turning the ether into swiss cheese with your careless zipping back and forth."

Loki frowned. "I've grown used to relying on the Casket; I don't know that I can easily transport two people without it."

Odin snorted. "_I_ will transport us, Loki."

It was not his preferred method of travel, but he didn't argue – until Thor was back safe, everything else would have to wait. "Of course. Forgive me, I'm used to traveling with incompetents." He gave a sheepish chuckle and shrugged his massive shoulders – and they felt a little strange, a little too tight. He had not yet learned to lie with his Jotun body language.

_Not that Odin will know the difference,_ he reminded himself. The vast majority of Odin's knowledge of frost-giant anatomy probably consisted of: _This is how to know when one is dead._

"Give me your hand. And take care with your…" Odin gestured vaguely. "You burn."

He swallowed down all the things he might have said, and just reached out. Odin nodded, gripped him firmly, and pulled them with confidence into the ether.

The trip was quick, smoother even than Loki did it. When they arrived Loki turned out of habit to offer warming and lighting spells, but Odin was already swathed in furs and carrying his glowing staff. "Where do they congregate, Loki?" he asked quietly. "At the site of the old court, or have they chosen a new place?"

"A new place. Much was destroyed, and it is ill fortune to build on red ice." Loki didn't miss the way the Allfather's eye narrowed and darted over him. He fished around for another proverb. Something even more unsettling. Perhaps he could-

"Then, take us there." Odin's voice was still mild, but somehow… different. Formal, almost commanding. It was a _king's_voice, and Loki much preferred it to anything paternal. He inclined his head and struck out across the snow.

… And Odin kept pace with him, effortlessly, leaving a shining trail of gold sparkles in his wake. _It's a good thing we're not trying to come in stealth,_ he thought, but had the good sense to keep his mouth shut. It was no good to start_joking; _that would only tell Odin that he was nervous and he thought it best to play his cards close to the vest for now.

* * *

Thor's head was finally starting to clear. He was lucid enough now to know that he was sitting in the giants' great hall beside their king_,_ that he had begun fainting, that the frost-giants had asked why and he had finally admitted: "…too cold..."

He had thought the cold was some kind of test. Or mockery. Something, some trick designed to expose him for a weakling, and he _would not _be made to beg mercy. So he sat, stony silent, in armor that had grown so chilled it burned his skin where it touched him, shivering, his heaviest cloak seeming to provide no protection at all.

And this was _indoors. _Imagine if the giants had held their court outside!

"We will speak after eating, Thor-King," Helblindi had promised, and offered him a plate of… Jotun _something… _and then proceeded to sprawl out on his throne chatting with his minions, ignoring the fact that Thor's breath was visible and his hands shaking.

Thor remembered that much. The later bits were fuzzy, the parts where he concentrated on breathing, on the buzz in his ears that said he had not yet fainted, on the faint low hum of Jotun voices in the background. Misery gave way at last to lethargy, and he was so grateful not to be suffering any longer that he closed his eyes and planned to just slip off to sleep.

"_Thor. Thor-King._" A purr in his ear, a touch on his face that was warm and crackling with magic. "_Do you sleep? Are you unwell?_"

He'd admitted it at last, and then the next thing he knew was thawing out slowly beside the throne, in a heap of furs that emitted a lovely enchanted heat.

"Thor-King." Helblindi broke the silence at last. "We will wait to talk. Loki comes."

_Loki? _But Loki was tucked safe away, where he would not be forced – or allowed – to choose between his peoples.

But somehow, here he was; Thor heard his voice – his Jotun voice, anyway – echo through the hall. "Greetings, cousin. With respect: why have you taken my brother?"

_No,_ Thor wanted to say, _I came freely._ But it would be too much effort, especially when Helblindi was already speaking up to explain. "You must know that Thor-King came of his own free will."

"That's what I heard, yes. But then why have you hidden him from our Guardian's sight so that we can't check on him? You've made Asgard very nervous."

Helblindi chuckled. "Is your king a child that he needs a minder wherever he goes?" Then his voice lowered to gravel. "We hid him for protection, child. His and ours. Both of our realms have enemies – and the death of Thor in the court of Jotunheim would breed bitter war between us. I wanted no one to try."

Interesting. That _was _clever. Thor had never known that the giants were such careful tacticians… although, Loki was a giant, so perhaps it stood to reason that plotting was in their blood. Thor clutched the blanket tighter around him and tried to follow along.

"… quiet," Loki was saying. "Have you drugged him? Not that I would blame you."

A shift from beside him, and then Helblindi's heavy hand was on his shoulder. "No. We froze him near to death," the giant said flatly, "Through inattention. We forget how poorly Aesir bear the cold."

"Ah."

"We have begged his pardon. He is warming."

By now Thor had the energy to open his eyes, and the glowing ice along the walls threw enough light to study the face of the giant that stood before the throne. It _was_ Loki, staring hard at him, eyebrows arched.

"Yes," Thor rasped at last. The effort nearly exhausted him. "I'm fine, Loki. And it was my fault."

Loki still looked tense (as best Thor could tell, at least; he was still working on reading that face), but at that, the red eyes rolled at him, with affection. "Why am I unsurprised that you chose to tough it out instead of reminding them? You are a fool, Thor. May I?" That last was said in Helblindi's direction, and when the giant nodded Loki came forward with a ball of magic between his hands.

Thor closed his eyes and leaned into the spell, feeling heat surround him, feeling so good that he almost missed what the giant-king said next. "Now to other things. You have brought someone here who is not welcome, child." Thor was too gloriously warm to care. "Odin Allfather stands outside this hall. It is wise of him not to enter uninvited. It would mean his life."

_That _certainly woke him up the rest of the way.

* * *

"Father?" Thor sounded like he was emerging from a deep sleep.

"Hush," Loki growled. "Yes, he awoke. It's fine. I'm taking you home and you can say hello there. Whatever's going on," he said, loudly, "Be it negotiations, or war, or whatever, you can thaw out first and we'll discuss it all later." He flashed an innocent look towards the throne. "I trust that won't be a problem, cousin?"

Helblindi shrugged. "He is a guest, not a prisoner. I wished to discuss alliance with him. It can wait."

Well, that was good. Thor was not a hostage, and Jotunheim was turning elsewhere for its war. Things were looking up.

But Helblindi was not finished. "Thor-King," he said. "I would discuss alliance with _you. _But there will be no alliance if a thief sits upon Asgard's throne."

Loki did his best to distract Thor with the trial of standing up. "Come on – put your arm around me. I've got you."

"I can- I'm fine," Thor protested, swatting at him. (Loki was delighted to see that his Jotun grip was not as easily broken as his usual one.). "Let go, brother. And King Helblindi- _ow, _let me talk, Loki!- your majesty, for the sake of the peace we hope to make between us, you'll have to restrain yourself. Do not call my father names, I warn you."

Helblindi let out a deep rumble… a show of power, but not quite a threat. "I hope you can forgive the insult, Thor." He ran his hand down an ice-blade and held up the bloody wound, the ritual apology. "But my words stand. Your father is a thief of babies; we will make no pact with him."

"Let us not exaggerate," Loki put in. Perhaps humour could lower the tension. "The Allfather stole just _one _baby that we know of – and from the stories I hear, you were well rid of me." Odin was listening, he just _knew _it. Listening and couldn't do a thing to stop him.

It was too much to resist. "And besides," he added, "Asgard is ready to make amends for that. We've brought you recompense: something worth more than a runty little princeling." Oh, Odin would have his _head _for this. But strangely, he didn't feel afraid – only delighted. It was common "knowledge" among the more ignorant elements of Asgard that Jotuns feel no fear… perhaps it was true?

The giants were all standing silent and rapt. He drew forth the Casket with an enormous flourish, because at this point what else was he going to do; he had thoroughly iced himself into a corner.

"The Casket of Ancient Winters," he said solemnly, as if any of them would not know what it was.

Helblindi reached for it, mouth open...

...And Loki snatched it away, just in time. "Hold," he said. "One moment." He had remembered, suddenly, that its magic was all bound up. What had he been thinking?! A useless gift, a taunt... _that _would be well-received, wouldn't it. He should not have brought it out. Until he had time to undo what he and Odin had wrought, he would have to stop the giants from examining it too closely.

"Thor, hold still," he murmured. He floated the Casket with one hand, and with his other reached up to brush Thor's hair back behind his shoulder.

"Brother… what are you doing?"

"I'll heal this when we get home." Those were perhaps not the most reassuring words ever to have passed his lips, so he added: "Trust me."

He brought the Casket nearer, and touched it to Thor's cheek for just an instant. He had to use his own power to freeze through it, but the brazen sleight of hand worked perfectly; Thor flinched and gasped with pain. "See?" He turned Thor's head to show off the dark ugly burn. "The Casket has been safe in Odin's vault all these years; it's undamaged." He conjured a table of ice, and set it down. "But wait until we leave to take it up, if you don't mind. It takes practice to control it, and I know you have no love for these Asgardians, and… we don't need any more Stupidity."

Helblindi smiled. "Wisdom," he said, and made no move to touch. He rose to his full height. "As our king I will accept Asgard's reparation."

"Excellent, cousin. Now-"

"But know this, Loki: as your brother, I yet ache. He tore you from my arms."

Loki froze. _Your brother._ Maybe he could just vanish. Disappear and never come back. Leave Odin and the frost-creatures to hash it out, and first kill Thor because now Thor knew the truth, and go off like this by himself someplace where people wouldn't recognize him or expect anything of him or ever even look at him, ever again. Maybe go back to the dungeon, where visitors couldn't come uninvited and he could just stand in their excellent shower until he was good and ready to come out.

_Could _he shower as a Jotun? Or would the water just freeze?

Thor broke the moment by tugging on his arm – and hissing at the painful cold. "Loki?"

Anything, _anything _other than answer him. "Don't be dramatic," he snapped to Helblindi instead. "Odin picked me up off the _floor_. There wasn't the slightest hint of arm-tearing."

"That is truth. Though he did break my head."

"You put out his eye – he had every right." Ridiculous, to be _defending _Odin. For this or anything. But if he kept arguing with Helblindi he could put off the moment where he had to turn and look Thor in the face, so... "Besides, he healed you, didn't he? So, no harm done."

Thor at last staggered up to stand between them. "Why didn't you _tell _me?" he said – to Helblindi. "I would not have kept you from your brother, you must know that. I would not have been so... so greedy as to... my friend, I would not hurt _anyone_ in that way, Jotun or not. You must be-… I am so sorry," he finished, fumbling.

And _still _not looking at Loki. Which was annoying. "Enough, Thor," Loki snapped. "I'm not a pebble, to be passed from one person to another. There's no question of _greed_ about it." He looked at the floor. "But also I apologize. I should have said something."

At that Thor spun to face him. "_You?_ You, you mean you-... You knew also?"

Loki swallowed. Why had he even opened his mouth? But it was too late now. "Yes, I-… for a while now," he admitted.

"And hid it from me?"

"Because I- I didn't want-…" He shut up. It was silent now, everyone watching them, and he _hated _that Odin of all people might be hearing this conversation unfold. The hall door was still closed, but surely even the Allfather was not above listening at keyholes when stakes were this high. "I should have told you," he said, more for Odin's benefit than anything else. _See, Father?_ His Jotun voice would carry easily out into the corridor. "I was absolutely wrong to keep it from you – I was afraid you wouldn't feel as close to me if you knew, but that is no excuse and I know I've only made it all harder for you and I'm a disgusting coward and I'm so sorry I want to throw up."

Thor didn't seem to realize that most of the speech was not really directed at him. "I don't want your apologies, I want an explanation," he snapped, standing straight, ready to _fight_. He seemed to have forgotten all about his misery on Helblindi's behalf.

Loki shrugged. "I… can't give you one."

"Are you allied with _him _now?" Thor didn't wait for an answer. "Is that it? Were you planning to betray us? To sell out your own people, _my_ people, to come help the Jotuns make war?"

His determination to set a good example was wearing away in the face of Thor's hostility. Loki wanted to freeze him. Had _he_ been this frustrating to Odin, when Odin finally came clean? "Of course not, Thor," he said, temper still firmly under control. "But this isn't the time – we'll discuss it at home."

"At home?" Thor stepped closer, looked up at him. "Is it even your home? Or have you left us entirely, for _this_?"

"And what if I have?" Loki taunted, reflexively. "Are you jealous?" It was the obvious answer to Thor's tone.

Then he blinked. Maybe Thor actually _was _jealous; that's what Sif had thought, anyway. And she knew his moods as well as anyone.

Well, Loki could test her theory easily enough. He cleared the nastiness from his tone and let his shoulders drop. "Helblindi respects me, and what I can do," he said evenly. Quietly, now, because this was no business of the frost-giant court. "He doesn't accuse me of betrayal at every turn. He's never mashed me with a hammer in anger; in fact, he's never raised a hand to me at all. And -oh!- yes. He's never _once_ sent me away to a torture chamber. So if I _did_ leave you people to come to him… In all honesty, Thor, could you blame me?"

It was even more effective than he'd hoped; Thor crumpled immediately. His mouth fell open, his eyes grew wet, and he reached out stupidly for a handful of frostbite, whispering "Loki, please..."

"_No_-! You idiot – give me." Loki snatched the hand roughly and pressed it between his own palms. He drew on what power he had – less, without the Casket, but still quite a lot – and soothed the damage. Trying not to feel guilty. He cast around for some roundabout way of offering comfort, and couldn't come up with anything, and finally just reminded himself that he'd already poured his heart out in front of Thor more than once (_There was almost no information you would struggle to hold back_), and there was no reason not to tell him the truth. "Thor," he sighed, "The way you're looking at me right now is exactly the reason I didn't want to tell you. I'm not going anywhere, brother – and I didn't want you to worry."

"Loki…" Thor swallowed hard – more than once. Then he shook his head. "You're right. This is not the time. You will come home? And we can talk there."

"Of course." The burned cheek looked horrible, so when he was finished with the hand Loki fixed that, too. "There. Wouldn't want you to become any uglier than you already are." He gave his best careless smirk, and tugged Thor a step towards the door. "Come on – let's get you home." They had to get out of here before anyone noticed something amiss with the Casket. Once Thor was safe – and Odin was safely occupied – he could come back here by himself and talk his way out of trouble somehow, perhaps pretend he'd enchanted the Casket on his own initiative, without the King's knowledge so it was nothing to declare war over, it was just a precaution, in fact it was meant to _help _Jotunheim somehow, yes, it was, er, to keep the Casket from being misused by the greedy Asgardian magicians who had been buzzing around it lately. Or something. Once he got Thor out of here he would have time to think.

"Button your cloak, Thor. We have to go outside; we can't travel from in here" He soon lost patience with Thor's numb and clumsy Aesir fingers and did up the buttons himself. Helblindi seemed to be watching the way his hands moved… nervous, protective. If he guessed why…

But the giant only shrugged. "Take your Asgardian home and warm him. Again we apologize for his ill treatment."

"It's not your fault," Loki said firmly. "It's his." Oh, Odin was going to _kill_ him for taking sides against the family in public. Maybe he would have to move to Jotunheim after all. He grinned. Might as well go all the way! "And, we look_forward_ to discussing an alliance with you," he enthused. "We can come back, or, or, we'd be honored to entertain a delegation officially in Asgard. I'll freeze part of the palace for you to make everybody comfortable."

At last Thor elbowed him. "_Loki._"

Loki bowed. "Til next time, cousin." He clasped Helblindi's hand, and they iced over their joined fingers together. "Have fun with your Casket." (If he _hadn't _said something congratulatory, it would seem suspicious.)

Helblindi's smile looked a little dark. "We will."

* * *

TBC.

We are approaching the end. I am delighted to see Loki losing some of his wariness, and lapsing back into his old ways of inventing crazy plots as he goes along.


	38. Family - Chapter 16

"_What have you done_!?" Odin thundered, the instant they arrived in Asgard.

Loki stared.

"The Casket, Loki! How could you? How _dare _you?"

"How dare I? It was _your _idea! You authorized me!" His voice was shaking the walls, but he was too upset to change back. (And, he would hate to give up his height advantage.)

"I authorized you to _trade it for your brother's safety!_"

"And there he stands. _Safe_!" Loki widened his stance – of necessity. Something was cutting into the top of his thigh suddenly, and squeezing his-... whatever Jotuns had under their loincloths. He had yet to really sit down and examine. "Hold," he growled, and turned away to sort himself out.

"What's going on?" Thor said from behind him. "Loki? Are you all right?"

"He is fine – just berserk," Odin said with authority. "That's what happens to the Jotun when their anger overwhelms them. They grow ridges and so forth, of dark ice."

His skin – or whatever one called it – was itching. His pulse pounded and he struggled to pay attention to what Odin was saying. "This has never- it's- it won't stop," he stammered. "I don't feel well. Is it normal?" There was a smooth hard shell between his legs now, which Helblindi had told him could happen _for protection._ "And I don't think it_'_s anger," he added, "Or at least not anger alone. I believe this is a stress response. Defensive." He looked at his wrists, which had indeed put forth small icy spikes. "Or else the blades would happen, instead of this armor."

Thor came a little closer – holding his hammer, at least; he wasn't _entirely _brainless. "Are you all right? Is it hurting you?"

"No – I'm fine. Just-... just give me a moment, maybe it will go away if I calm down. Sorry. I'm sorry."

"You have many things to apologize for, Loki," Odin sighed, "But this is not one of them. Don't get any closer, Thor. He's cold enough now to hurt you at a distance."

_Suck in all the way, and hold it. Now out._ He breathed slow and deep until the spines went down and his icy underpants melted away. "All right," he said at last. "I think I'm all right. Sorry about that."

"Self-control is highly prized among the Jotun," Odin put in. "This is why. When they fall prey to their feelings they lose fine coordination, they think poorly, all they can do is roar and smash and destroy."

Loki finally turned back around to face them, nodding in his brother's direction. "And you're sure _I'm _the Jotun – not him?" Thor's laugh was surprise and relief. "I'm going to try to change back now."

Odin nodded.

"... But not if you're going to yell at me." His eyes widened – he hadn't meant to say that _aloud._ Well, that was mortifying. He tried to pass it off as belligerency. "Understand? I'm not in the mood to be terrorized."

Odin gave an irritated wave that looked like agreement, so he shifted back and simultaneously conjured himself into clothes.

"Ah – there." He cracked his neck and waited for this form to feel natural. "Much better. Now, where were we?"

"We were shouting at you," Thor said, his voice heavy with disapproval, "For doing exactly what you were told. Father, that _isn't _fair."

Odin's didn't give an inch. "Loki knows it was not necessary to give them the Casket. They now present a serious danger."

Thor didn't seem to have a ready answer for that, so Loki jumped back in. "You were willing to give it to them when you thought they'd_kidnapped _Thor. Are they any _more _dangerous now that you know they were only being friendly?" And much as he wanted to not think about this particular fact, he had to add: "Also, how useful will the thing really be to them after all your binding magic?"

"Binding magic?" Thor echoed, then gave a huge shudder. Loki saw at once that ice was melting from his hair and running into his clothes; no wonder he was freezing. He dried it with a gesture and Thor relaxed. "Thank you, brother."

"You're welcome. Now why don't you go change and get to bed? The cold wears on you."

"If you're going to talk of diplomacy, I should probably..."

"-Fall asleep where you stand, and contribute snores to the conversation?" Loki interrupted. "We can manage without. I'll fill you in when you wake up. Go on." He flashed him the _look_ he used at counsel, the please-just-trust-me look.

Thor's eyes darted briefly towards Odin. His head cocked just a fraction. _You have more to say to me, but you won't do it in front of him?_

Loki gave him the ghost of a nod.

"Very well, brother," Thor said at last, aloud. "But wake me when you come in." (He was learning! The first time Loki had tried to communicate surreptitiously with him at a big dinner he had barked "_Ow-_! Loki, that's my foot; stop stepping on it!")

"I'll be along soon." Once Thor had gone he faced Odin squarely. The hair on the back of his neck was pricking up and his stomach churned, and he found the Aesir response to stress highly inferior to the Jotun one. "Father," he began, but Odin held up a hand.

"I don't know how Thor has been managing the throne in my absence," Odin said, "I don't know what he's been allowing, but I caution you to think carefully before you open your mouth again. _I_ will not tolerate disrespect."

Loki nodded. He felt his face settle into the familiar worried and remorseful look that one had best wear when being chastised by the Allfather. "Yes of course. I'm sorry."

That seemed to smooth Odin's feathers a little. "Mm. I understand you've had a difficult day."

"Yes."

"Well." Odin sighed. "You're welcome to share your views with me, Loki – as always. But if I decide against you, you're to defer with grace." He shook his head. "I've never had to remind you of that before. It was always Thor who couldn't hold his tongue."

_First I'm faulted for lying. Now for being too honest._ "My day _has_ been difficult, and changing forms exhausts me," Loki explained smoothly, with the most honest expression he could dredge up. "Besides, as you mentioned, it's been some time since I've had to _defer _to anybody. Thor and I argue as equals." He shrugged. "Though of course the final decision is always his."

"Nominally." Odin did not look pleased.

"More than nominally." _In a manner of speaking._ "He's done a much better job as king than I would have expected."

Odin looked grumpily gratified – as if _he _had been the one complimented. Perhaps now was a good time to ask questions. "Father... and speaking of Thor as king... who's going to rule now? Will you step down for good, or are you going to demote him?"

"Demote." Odin snorted. "I have not decided. If we went to war one of us would lead the campaign, and the other stay home to rule. If we are_not _going to war... I don't know. Your mother has always wanted to travel. I could take her away for a while, leave the throne with you boys... Or perhaps I'll stay, and send the two of _you _abroad. I don't know. But I do know that the three of us are not the makings of a peaceful household right now. It's best if we separate for a time."

"I don't disagree with that at all." Loki swallowed. "And… the frost-giants?"

Odin made a face. "They are a threat but not an emergency, so I will turn my attention to Jotunheim tomorrow," he declared. "I promised your mother that I would spend the evening with her and that we would not talk of politics or of ruling."

"Mm. A word of warning, Father." Loki's smile was easy and harmless. "She's going to bring up this baby griffin. Thor's already told her it can't stay in the stables because it continually tries to eat the horses, and it'll soon be big enough to succeed. Mother thinks she can tame it. She's sure to seek your support the minute your mood looks right, so be on your guard."

Odin laughed and thanked him – ostensibly for the advice. Their shoulders brushed on the way out the door and Loki made sure not to pull away.

* * *

When Odin was safely in the clutches of his poor neglected wife, Loki planned his next move. He had unpleasant conversations with _both _of his brothers coming... but the talk with Helblindi might actually result in his death, which would spare him the conversation with Thor entirely. With that in mind, he left Thor sleeping and went on to Jotunheim.

It was the giants' sleeping time, so Loki thought first that he should go to Helblindi's bedroom.

But then, through some instinct he could not quite articulate, he somehow _knew_ that he should try the throne room instead.

The court was deserted. (And fucking cold! But he had had enough of his Jotun form just now; after the thing had committed mutiny and embarrassed him in front of his family he wasn't sure he ever wanted to wear it again.) He made his way through the halls with a ball of light in his hand, bundled up in a dozen furry layers, so that he tripped and bumped into everything. _Good thing I'm not trying to come in stealth._

It seemed he almost _did _come in stealth though; when he reached the throne room and cleared his throat to announce his presence, Helblindi stiffened as if he'd been startled.

The giant king stood with his back to the door, leaning over a table of ice. Something on the table – no prizes for guessing what – glowed.

"Helblindi. Cousin. May I come in?"

A long pause. "I see you intend no violence. If you did, it would not be like you to wait." He turned around, and all Loki could see at this distance was a flash of teeth. "Come in, child."

Loki swallowed hard and ordered himself to be brave. Frost-giants were not known for their cruelty – even their ritual executions were swift and humane. "Doubtless you've realized by now that that's not working," he said, nodding to the Casket without looking. "And if you haven't thought to blame me yet, you will soon."

Helblindi nodded. "I sensed that some of the winter was gone from you, the moment you arrived. I knew at once that the Casket's power had been suppressed."

"You-? Then why didn't you say anything?"

"You had already brought the Allfather into our midst. I thought you might not be forgiven a second trespass so quickly." Helblindi shrugged. "I would not see you harmed."

"Thank you." He came up slowly. "Cousin… shall I try to take the binding off? I don't know that I can – it's largely Odin's own work – but I'm willing to try."

"The Allfather surely has great skill," Helblindi said politely. "But so do you, child. And you are of Jotunheim while the Allfather is not."

So Loki sat down at the table. The Casket seethed with trapped power, but it couldn't burn him now. Even his silly fragile Aesir skin was safe from it.

And speaking of his skin. "Helblindi. I wanted to ask you something. It's not important," he assured fast, "It's just a, a personal question, about… about my _true flesh,_ as you call it."

Helblindi grinned and lolled his tongue out. "Most boys ask this of their elders at the age of fourteen, child. You are late."

"Oh- _no_! No no no. It's not that. Please believe me I don't want to hear-… that." Although really, he should, at some point, find out. Maybe sex as a Jotun was better than what he was getting currently. In which case…

But he ordered himself to focus. "No. What I want to ask is that earlier I was… frightened and angry. And my body started to… change. It-… I got-…" He made a face and gestured, sketching spikes with his fingers.

"Ah. I can explain it to you, and teach you to control it." Helblindi frowned. "But that will take time, and I melt with worry. Will you try to free the Casket first?"

"Oh, of course. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hold it hostage. I just-…" he laughed a little, realizing that he was stalling and that it made no sense. "To be frank I'm a little worried myself," he admitted. "I'm worried that I won't be able to fix it on my own."

"Will you become _more _able, if you sit there for ten minutes longer?"

"Um. No."

"Then try it now."

_They certainly don't mince words, do they._ Loki nodded, swallowed hard, and rolled his sleeves up...

"Helblindi," he interrupted himself. "What if I fail?"

"Then you run," the giant said placidly. "And I will find another sorcerer who can break this spell. It will take time."

"Oh. I see." That didn't sound too bad, actually. Perhaps he should fail on purpose.

"... And once our power is returned to us, we will punish someone for this cheat. I will try to see that it is Asgard, and not you."

On second thought, perhaps he should not fail. He took another breath and tried to focus.

"Helblindi?" He couldn't focus. "What if I succeed? What'll happen then?"

Helblindi's smile was very bright in the darkness. "Then we make war."

"Why – on who? For what? I don't understand."

"You are distressed. Do you truly hate war so much?"

"I- Yes. Yes, I do." He wondered how to explain. He could pretend to care about the elves or the pitiful little Midgardians or something, but Helblindi would never believe it. "If you attack a peaceful realm, Asgard will probably step in," he said instead – truthfully. "And I _know _I'll hate that." It was easier when they couldn't really make eye contact. "I've warred on Jotunheim before, cousin."

"I know."

"You _don't_ know." Now, while he was still needed alive to unbind the Casket, now was probably the safest time he would ever find to confess. "I don't mean when I came here with Thor for that ridiculous brawl. Nor do I mean when I killed Laufey. I mean..." If he hesitated now he would never find the nerve again. "I mean it was I who turned the Bifrost on you. I myself."

Helblindi's voice came low and mellow: "Ah, so it was. I had wondered." And then nothing more.

"But-… You had?"

"That surprises you?" Helblindi laughed. "You have come near to telling me before. Did you think me stupid?"

"No, but I didn't think you wouldn't _care _that I've butchered most of your family and friends! They don't matter to you?"

"They matter." He sighed. "I wept long inches for the friends I lost in the Stupidity – two males and one female, the most loyal I had ever known. And for my family as well. There was Laufey, and also Byleistr who would have been my brother. _Our_ brother."

"Our-..." Out of nowhere came a vivid image of little blue children playing together, and suddenly Loki couldn't breathe. "We had a brother?" His eyes were burning. He shook his head. _No._

"No longer. He would have been our elder, but Laufey cast him from the family long before our time." Thank the _gods; _Loki still felt a little sick but at least he could forget about the little blue children thing. "I learned of him much later," Helblindi went on, "When I was already grown. He recognized me on a battlefield, by my marks."

Loki didn't know what to say.

"So, yes: I knew loss when the Bifrost struck. And I do _care_. Though the Aesir mean a different thing by the word than we do."

"Then, you must hate me."

"No." Helblindi was completely calm. "I already knew you warred on us, child. Why should I hate you for doing it well?"

"_Well_?" He had never seen what happened or heard much in detail; all he had was his imagination... but that was bad enough. "I killed from afar with no warning and no discrimination," he said flatly. "That's not good war."

"It's winning war. And wars are to be won – else why fight them?"

"Is that really...?" Loki sat back in his chair. "Cousin, you're not making the idea of freeing up your Casket sound very attractive. If that's what you're going to do with it."

Helblindi leaned close and laughed in his ear – a low rumbling laugh that Loki _Did. Not. Like. _He shivered and wished suddenly for his defensive spikes back. Though he supposed his loving brother here might consider that an insult. "You would bargain with me, child? You would set conditions?"

"No," Loki said quickly. "No no. I know I have no right. The Casket is yours, and I will explain that to all of Asgard should anyone complain. However. I would _ask_ you," he said delicately, "To use it carefully. Brutality will win you no friends, and all the words in the world won't stop our king – either king – from attacking if they think it's necessary. Please think carefully."

Helblindi sighed. Put a hand on Loki's shoulder – a hand of bearable temperature. "Your warning is well-taken."

"But you're not going to heed it?"

"Hush. Our attack this night is not on you. Nor on any realm that cannot defend itself. It is glory I seek for my first war, and glory can only come from a glorious opponent."

That was something, at least.

"Now free the Casket, child. You would try the most endless patience."

"Mm. It's a talent of mine, sorry. All right, be quiet and let me concentrate. This hopefully won't take long."

* * *

But it _did _take long, it took hours and hours and every scrap of skill Loki had, and all the power he had, and even power he _didn't_ have, which Helblindi lent him via ice-cold hands on his bare shoulders. (His furs had been getting in his way, Helblindi was chiding him for not _letting winter in,_ and the Casket itself felt annoyed with him. So he dropped his layers one by one, using magic to try and warm himself instead, promising himself that he would never, ever again try to spellcast shirtless in a dark subzero ice cavern.)

When he was done he was so exhausted he had to have help bundling himself back up, and had to have help walking, and eventually even with a giant to lean on the walking was too difficult. Through the last hallway and out to the courtyard, Helblindi carried him. (Flung him over his shoulder like a sack of grain, actually. And muttered complaints about Aesir weaklings the entire time.)

When they were outside he stood on his own two feet long enough to bid Helblindi farewell. To promise to visit each other soon. To plead once more for peace… and then, in case his pleading was in vain and all went south, to insist on a hug, which Helblindi reciprocated with a great deal of gruff amusement.

He dragged himself into the ether, and it was a good thing he'd worn a path home already because he was too exhausted to aim himself very carefully. He was spit up on the floor of the throne room and he barely managed to stumble through the palace to his bedchamber.

He was at the end of his endurance. The end!

So he was less than delighted to open the door and find Thor sitting on the bed awake, arms crossed, waiting for him.

"Loki. We have to talk."

* * *

TBC.


	39. Family - Chapter 17

**A/N: Sorry sorry sorry! I've been distracted, writing other things. I won't disappear again.**

* * *

Thor's voice was hard and controlled. Some time ago that might have alarmed Loki, but over the course of Thor's kingship he had grown to learn the difference between Thor trying to rein in his temper, and Thor just trying to sound Stern.

Tonight was clearly the latter. So, Loki flopped down into a chair (the bed was too far away anyway) and put his head in his hands. "I'll tell you everything, but please: not now." In case that wasn't pathetic enough, he added: "You know I don't ask mercy lightly, brother, but I am _begging_you to wait until tomorrow. I am completely worn out."

Immediately Thor was kneeling by his chair, trying to make him sit up straight, trying to get a close look at his face. "Loki? What's the matter, what happened? You look…"

"Fine. I'm fine." He did his best to straighten up and look alert. "Just tired. I did some very difficult magic tonight, for some very high stakes, that's all. But Helblindi is not attacking Asgard and everything's fine. I'm fine."

Thor heaved a sigh. "Can we make a pact to never again say _I'm fine_ to one another? It is always a lie."

Loki laughed.

"I am _serious_, brother."

"And I am _seriously _fine." Thor put a hand on his head… was he feeling for _fever_? In a frost-giant? Loki swatted it off, but gave a pat on the shoulder to make amends. "I do know I owe you answers. And you can have them, if you let me sleep a little first. Agreed?"

Thor frowned. "I learned some disturbing things tonight, brother, and I have been waiting to talk to you for hours already."

The last thing Loki was in the mood to hear was _whining. _"And it doesn't appear to have killed you, does it," he pointed out. "Surely you can wait a little longer – I'm so tired I can hardly think."

"You don't _need_ to think in order to have a simple conversation with me." The hardness in Thor's voice was beginning to sound a little dangerous. "Or rather, you _wouldn't, _if you planned to tell me the truth." He paused and Loki cast around for an answer, but he really _was_tired, and his thinking sluggish, and before he could come up with anything Thor nodded. "As I thought. You want to wait until you have all your wits about you, so that you can spin me some lies."

At least he could make a token protest. "That's not a very charitable interp-"

"Tell me I'm wrong," Thor challenged. "Look me in the eyes and tell me I've misjudged you – tell me truthfully – and I will apologize."

Loki made eyebrows. "That will be a nice change. Usually when I tell you you're wrong, you throw a tantrum, and end up socking me in the mouth." He wondered why he was being so difficult, but it was already too late to retract the comment, because Thor was, indeed, now throwing a tantrum.

He was getting up and stomping off to the other side of the room. Slamming his hand against the wall. Saying, to the wall: "That's right – evade even that. And then wonder why it's so hard for people to believe anything you say."

... The implication being, of course, that Odin had been totally reasonable to send him off to _prove _his words.

A sudden sour bitterness in his mouth almost made him gag. It occurred to him he would be carrying around this resentment for the rest of his life. _You'll never not have suffered._

Suddenly Thor's good opinion mattered a whole lot less and he hardly cared what questions the idiot wanted to put to him now. What had he to lose? He sat up straight and folded his hands in his lap. "What do you want to know," he said quietly and without emotion.

Thor stiffened. "Loki, don't be that way. I just wanted-"

"I said: What. Do you want. To know."

* * *

Thor had been as patient as he knew how, fighting for calm, refusing to raise his voice… but that icy tone was like a slap in the face and it was the last straw. He pulled back at once.

"Very well, if that's how you want to talk to me, I'll take that," he growled. "Let us start with an easy question: do you have any _other _secret brothers I don't know about?"

Loki froze and suddenly he wished he could retract his words. That had been needlessly cruel; he fully understood why Loki had minimized the tie with Helblindi and it was _beyond _uncharitable to imply that he would-

"Yes."

_Yes?_ No. Perhaps he had misheard. "Beg pardon. Yes?" he repeated stupidly.

Loki was looking away. "Yes: I have another brother. Had. I just learned of it tonight," he explained crisply. "My eldest brother – I never met him. Apparently I killed him with the Bifrost beam though."

And that quickly Thor's anger was gone, a deflating so sudden and powerful he felt dizzy. He had no idea what to say now – this was a minefield. "Brother, I'm so sorry," he hazarded at last.

Loki went on as if he hadn't heard. "His name was Bystir or something, I don't remember. Helblindi said it once and I didn't ask again. I didn't care to know."

"I-… I am sorry_..._"

"It doesn't matter. I never even met him," Loki said again. "And he wasn't really my brother anyhow, not anymore – Laufey disowned him. I don't know why." He looked back and his face was blank and his eyes empty. "That is all the family – or ex-family – that I know about. Next question."

There were a number of topics he needed to discuss, but first: "Loki, there is no such thing as _ex-family_," he reminded, as gently as he could. It was an argument they had had many times since Loki's great revelation, and he never failed to put his foot down about it even when Loki was only joking. _I don't have to entertain them this time, Thor; they're only my ex-cousins now. How could you forget your mother's birthday, you insensitive lout – even her ex-son remembered to get her a present! _It was never something he allowed Loki to say, and now, given what it would mean here, he was going to allow it even less than ever.

Loki snorted and rolled his eyes.

The contempt stung. "Don't roll your eyes at me, brother. I _said, _you will _not _disavow that giant just because Laufey cast him out." Loki stopped looking blank or scornful and started looking worried, which was wise of him because if he didn't take back his words he was about to get his face smashed. "_Ex-brother_… Is that what you said of me? After Father-…" He had to pause a moment because his throat was closing. This was not something he talked of. Even the Teachers had had trouble pulling the story from him.

Loki looked surprised a moment and then laughed. The laugh was not friendly. "And once again everything is all about _you. _How reliable you are, brother. It's comforting, in the midst of all this change."

Thor tried to breathe deep. A fair point. It was a fair point; he was not so far gone he could not recognize that… but still. "Do not mock me, Loki. Not about this. Just tell me the truth."

Loki pursed his lips. "The truth? Very well: the answer is _no_. No, I did say to anyone that you were my _ex-brother. _Next question?"

Thor had already heard more than he cared to. He sighed and waved it all away. "Never mind. I am not in the mood to battle, brother. I only wanted to talk."

"Clearly. And why should it matter that _I_ only wanted to sleep?"

"All right – all right_._ I _said_: enough. I've surrendered." He could hear the authority in his own voice… he really did sound like a king… and realized he had no idea how to make it go away. "You are taking everything the wrong way and I have had enough. We can go to sleep now, as you wish, but _stop being nasty to me_. You know I've done nothing to deserve it."

Loki laughed again, and dipped his head from his seat. "Of course, Your Majesty. As you wish. But might _I _pose a question?" Without waiting for permission he did. "Do you think that barking orders at me will make me become _less_ nasty?"

"Not really, no." Thor shrugged. "But I believe I have run out of options. And my most trusted strategist is currently acting an enemy to me, for reasons I don't fully understand, so I can't even ask him for help." He crossed his arms and waited. If Loki wanted to be groveled to, that was the closest he was going to get.

Silence for a moment. Then, reluctantly, almost sulking, Loki suggested: "You could try asking nicely. Ask me _nicely_ if we can put off the weighty discussions til tomorrow and have a truce for now instead."

Thor heaved a sigh. It had been _Loki _who wanted to stall the conversation, and now, somehow, _he _was the one made to beg for it. But at this point he would try anything. "Loki, may we have a truce for now?" he repeated dutifully.

"… Please," Loki prompted.

"Loki, may we have a truce for now _please._"

Amazingly, Loki shrugged and relaxed in his seat. "Fine. I will not burn your realm this night, as my frosty brethren would say, and we can pick up tomorrow with the discussion of all the ways in which I've wronged you. How does that sound?"

It sounded nasty, but it was otherwise the right idea. Thor shrugged. "Fine. Now stop glowering at me, and come to bed."

He went and started fussing with the covers, organizing the pillows, because it gave him something to do that Loki couldn't possibly misinterpret.

Then Loki said, from behind him: "I'm sorry."

Clearly it had not actually happened – there was no explanation other than wishful thinking. "What?"

But Loki laughed softly – a nervous, uncomfortable sound – and _said it again._ "I said I'm sorry I've been so difficult." Then, with almost a touch of accusation, he added: "I _told _you I'm not feeling well. I won't be this awful in the morning. All right?"

Loki was still a minefield, and Thor decided not to try guessing at what words might form a safe response. Instead, he stopped with the bedding and crossed the room without speaking. He put his hand behind Loki's neck and shook him lightly. Kissed him on the forehead. "Come to bed."

He didn't miss the way Loki relaxed for a moment… before making a face and pulling away. "_Ugh, _Thor," he complained, rubbing at his forehead. "No _kissing._ I'm not twelve and you're not my mother."

"You still let Mother kiss you when you were _twelve_?" It was out before he could stop himself, but fortunately Loki did not take real offense.

"Don't think I am too tired to conjure scorpions…" he warned.

"Into your own bed? You would, wouldn't you."

Loki chuckled. "Of course. Vengeance is a dish I've often enjoyed from the healing room."

That was true, and sobering, but before Thor could think too hard about it Loki was already adding: "It's far better than that horrible broth they serve."

* * *

He had argued with Thor and _they had both walked away unscathed._ Loki could hardly believe it. No blood drawn, no resentment boiling, almost no feelings hurt at all. This was a first.

That energized him enough to rise from his chair and make for the bed…

… But he should have known it was too good to be true.

"Hey! No," Thor declared with authority, and yanked him by the collar. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Into-…" _Into my bed,_ he would have said, only in a flash he remembered that it was actually _Thor's_ bed, and that he was a guest whose welcome could be worn out at any time. And apparently just had.

Still. As upset as Thor must be to learn tonight that his place had been usurped by a monster, he still could have found a gentler way of kicking his former little brother out. Sudden unceremonious exile really _was _unkind, and by focusing hard on feeling annoyed, Loki at last felt able to make eye contact. "You said_: _come to bed," he reminded shortly. "Forgive me for presuming that you meant come _here_."

Thor blinked. "What?" They stared at each other a moment, and incredibly for once it was _Thor _who reached understanding first.

"I don't want you to _leave,_ Loki." He shook his head. "I only don't want all that icewater. Change your clothes first."

"Oh." Loki looked down at himself. He _was _dripping icewater, his clothes were soaked with it, but here in the warm of Asgard's castle it was not even enough chill for him to notice. Interesting. "Is it really…?"

Thor stepped up and put a hand on his neck: a very _warm _hand, he noticed now. "Yes: you're freezing. And no wonder; there's snow in your collar." He heaved a sigh. "I can tolerate your breathing an icy draft down my neck while you sleep, but is it too much to ask that you don't deliberately import half of Jotunheim into our bed?"

_Deliberately import… _He bit down on a smile – unsuccessfully.

Thor huffed. "I did not mean that."

"Oh? So you _do _want…?" He ducked and then retreated out of swatting range. "Now I've heard stories, Thor, but really – _half _of Jotunheim?" he teased. "Even _you_ are not that voracious of a- _urgh!_"

His mouth was suddenly full of fur as Thor tangled him up in his own cloak. He thrashed and struggled – instinctively, and as futilely as ever. "For someone so tired you're certainly a handful," Thor observed into his ear. Muffled through all the layers.

When he stopped fighting he was released. Thor stood with his arms crossed. "Spell your wet things dry, or take them off, or sleep on the floor. Those are your choices."

But Thor had been manhandling _carefully _for a change, and sounded at least as much amused as exasperated, and Loki was curious about what he would do. So, he dove for the bed without warning, exactly as he was.

"Loki-!" And then they were tussling again. "Fine – if that's how you want to-"

"Ow-!"

"Loki-"

"_Ow_ – you're tearing it," he protested as his cloak strings ripped.

"Then help me."

But he wouldn't, because it was amusing to lie completely limp and watch the great god of thunder grow more and more frustrated at simple tasks like buttons and ties. (A little magic might, possibly, have been making the buttons and ties more difficult than usual.)

"_Loki._ If you won't help will you at least not hinder? Please: sit up."

"No." He let out a sound that was embarrassingly close to a _giggle _as Thor tried to hold him upright with one hand and tug his shirt over his head with the other. He didn't resist, but the moment he was released he flopped limp to the bed again. "My arms don't bend that way," he pointed out patiently. Still limp.

"They will when I'm finished with them," Thor growled – but tried tugging in a different direction. When he tugged too close to the headboard: "Watch your head."

"I just want to sleep," he whined. He really _must _be exhausted, to think that any of this was funny. "And I can't understand why some idiot is trying to undress me against my will. Maybe I'll have to call guards in here to protect my virtue."

By now he was lying on his back and had been dragged halfway off the bed, because Thor was trying to pull his shirt off his arms without having undone the sleeve buttons first. "_Loki._ Please," he begged – but under his very real exasperation Loki detected the makings of a laugh.

"If only you and Sif had played with dolls instead of swords your whole childhood," he sighed, "Maybe this wouldn't be so difficult."

Thor struggled with the shirt a little longer, and finally let go. "Would you prefer to sleep like that?"

Loki considered saying _yes _just to irritate… but then Thor might actually make him do it, and the wet clothes _were _unpleasant and now his shoulders were starting to hurt. "Oh, _fine,_" he said. "Help me up."

Thor hauled him up to sitting, and helped him reverse his shirt back up his arms to expose the buttons. Once he could see his cuffs he moved to undo them, but given that he was still all tangled up the motion of one wrist sliding across the other felt like-

Like unpleasant. He jerked away from the position, but his movements felt hampered, _restrained,_ and without wasting a single second more he closed his eyes and obliterated the shirt completely.

He spread his arms wide and stretched them over his head. "There," he said brightly. "Solved."

Thor clearly understood – he had sobered up and now kept his hands to himself. "Forgive me, brother."

Loki had never cared much for horseplay, but he _would_ _not_ be too fragile for it. "Forgive you what?" he said, with a smile. "I'd be more worried if you _could _undress an unwilling bedmate. Give me my nightshirt; I'll do it. You'd probably stuff me in backwards."

_Or upside-down, _Loki prompted mentally. _Which would be an improvement over your usual looks._

He waited, but it seemed Thor was no longer in the mood to tease him with harmless insults. So he just dressed quietly and lay down.

Once it was dark Thor said: "I miss that."

"Miss what?"

"Your playing with me. Do you remember how we used to _play,_ as children? Until you turned so serious. And guarded."

"Mm." _You should have thought of that before you-_ But now was not the time to disturb their peace. "I grew up," he tossed off instead. Even that sounded a little too weighty in the dark, so he reached out and nudged Thor's shoulder. "You should try it some time, brother – it's supposed to be good for you."

* * *

TBC. Let me know what you think!


	40. Family - Chapter 18

Thor was on his way to breakfast when he was _summoned._

It had been so long since anyone had had the power to summon him that it took him a moment to wrap his mind around the concept. Yes: Father. Awake.

He spent the entire walk to Odin's chambers trying to remind himself of what it felt like _not _to have control, to bow to another's wishes. "Good morning, Father," he said when he arrived. That quickly, he knew he had failed – even his manner of speech was inappropriate.

But Odin did not seem to mind. "Come in, my son. I would speak with you in private." They both turned and gestured their respective guards away. Once they were alone Odin said: "Where is your brother?"

Immediately Thor felt wary. "Loki is asleep," he said. He could tell at once that he sounded nervous and defensive, and he tried to imagine how Loki would advise him if he were here. _He knows, Thor – or he will. There's no point lying about something he'll only learn on his own. _"He spent much of last night in negotiations with the Jotun chief."

"Negotiations." Odin's eye narrowed just a bit.

If it was meant to be a question, Thor had no answer. He cleared his throat. "I told him I will require a full report," he said. "He will give it to me this morning. He was too exhausted when he arrived."

"I see."

Thor tried to keep his face impassive, instead of smiling over just how _exhausted _Loki had been. He had been mercurial in the extreme, going from a sulk to a rage to pure giddiness in a matter of moments. That last was a joy to see; it was so rare for Loki to relax his guard these days. But it would not do for Father to hear that – any of it. He had too much suspicion where Loki was concerned already.

In fact, he decided to shelter Loki from Odin's irritation as much as possible. "_I_ gave permission for him to sleep late. When he arrived home he was completely worn out."

Odin frowned. "Thor..." He seemed to choose his words carefully. "Have you ever thought that it might be unseemly for your brother to go on sleeping in your bed?"

Of course he had. And he had always answered himself, angrily: "Do you mean, it might be unseemly for my brother to go on feeling that he requires protection? After what his own family had done to him?"

Odin looked stormy – very – and he withdrew the comment. Loki would not have appreciated it, anyway. He would have preferred his usual evasion and deflection. "...Or are you referring to the way the gossips took to calling him _my queen _for a while?" he asked. "Loki himself put a stop to that, with firmness and some fantastic magic. You would have been proud of him, father." _For once._

"I _am_ proud of him; I'm proud of both my sons," Odin said stiffly. Thor could see that his rebellious, uncooperative attitude had been noted. He knew he should stop volunteering speech in Loki's favor; it would only serve Loki ill in the end if Odin came to worry that he had too much influence. But deviousness was _Loki's _strength, not his, and he couldn't resist plowing ahead a little further.

"Well. Are you planning to go to the throne room this morning?" he asked. "Or should _Loki and I_ just hold court ourselves, as has become our habit?"

Instead of rising to the bait, Odin ignored the _Loki and I _entirely and proceeded to remind Thor just why he was not yet ready to rule alone. "The people just saw a frost-giant whisk you off to Jotunheim," he reminded calmly. "Half of them must already fear that war is coming. My appearance would suggest that their fears are founded, while yours would tell them that all is well." Thor kicked himself – hopefully invisibly – for not having thought of that himself. "So: _are _we going to war?"

Thor swallowed. "Loki says not," he said firmly, _trying _to radiate confidence and trust. (And secretly cursing Loki for leaving him in such a position of ignorance.)

"Very well. Then the throne room is yours. Go."

It was a rather mixed message, ceding him the throne room while dismissing him like a servant, and Thor tried to puzzle it out as he made for the door.

He was almost out when Odin called after him: "Thor. One more thing."

He winced and did not turn. "Yes, Father?"

"I won't ask you to cast Loki out of your bedchamber."

_Good, because I would not do it._

"... Instead, I'll talk to him myself," Odin went on. "He cannot stay there, if for no other reason than you won't be able to take a wife so long as Loki occupies her sleeping-space. Now go. Find out what happened last night – and before you go trumpeting it all around the palace, whatever it is, you come and tell _me._"

* * *

By the time Loki woke up, the day was half over and court had long since started. He dressed fast and dashed in, keeping himself invisible with a spell as he rushed up the stairs to take his place behind the throne.

Thor signaled for him to conjure up his own throne instead and sit down, close. "Afternoon, Loki," he muttered. "Did you sleep well?"

They had mastered the art of pretending to listen to petitioners while holding whispered conversation out of the sides of their mouths. "No worse than usual. Yourself?" He scanned the crowd: no Odin.

"I slept a bit, but most of the night I spent thinking."

Loki gave a quiet laugh. "Poor thing – that must have been _exhausting_ for you."

Thor moved his hand from the arm of his own throne to Loki's, where it looked to be resting easily… and squeezed until Loki's knuckles creaked. Loki forbid himself to squirm visibly and held out as long as he could, but eventually it hurt too much to ignore and he gave in. "_All right _all right enough, I'm sorry" he hissed, and the pressure eased at once.

Thor chuckled – clearly he had meant no harm, but that did not mean retaliation wasn't called for. Loki chilled himself instantly, enough to burn Thor's skin.

"Ow- Loki!" They separated and went back to pretending to pay attention to court for a while. Loki felt he had won that round and was pleased about _that,_ but he was a little troubled that the scuffle had taken place at all. Thor had not laid a violent hand on him _once _in all the time since… his return… and while it was galling to be considered a weakling it had also been nice to be exempted from battery for a change. But now it seemed Thor had taken last night's foolishness to mean that excessive caution was no longer needed.

He wondered if there was a way to suggest otherwise that would not be _too _costly to his pride. He couldn't think of one.

"Loki?" Thor whispered in his direction after a while. "Are you all right?"

He glanced down and realized that he was wringing his hands, trying to stretch out his cramped fingers. "I'm fine," he whispered back, and made himself stop. "Yourself?"

"Of course." After a moment he added: "Though that freeze was impressive – you did it as well as-… Oh."

Loki snorted. "As well as one of those nasty old frost-giants?" Then he shrugged. "You should be more impressed by all the times I _don't _burn people." Then he blinked. Thor's enormous strength was no more his fault than Loki's temperature; perhaps Loki should stop complaining about the times he didn't control it and be more impressed by the times he did. "I'm fine – honestly. But you should feel free to _not_ beat up on me, if the mood ever strikes you. Consider it an open and heartfelt invitation."

Thor shifted in his seat. "Understood," he said at last… and Loki found he actually believed him.

He thought around for something to give in return. Ah. "Shall I tell you want happened last night in Jotunheim?" he said.

He glanced over just in time to see Thor's jaw clench. "Father wants a _report._ I suppose that's not unreasonable, so I want you to tell me everything I need to know – everything I have a _right _to know – as your king." Loki could tell he wasn't done, so he waited. Sure enough, after a while: "However." Thor kept his eyes on the court and didn't try once to look over. "I suppose it's not my place to ask about anything personal that passed between you and-…" His voice was harsh and strangled but he forced it out: "Your brother."

That was… so backwards. Loki shook his head. "No," he said. He turned in his seat to face Thor head-on, audience be damned. A quick charm to protect them from being overheard, and he said firmly: "Listen – and enjoy this, Thor, because it's not a discussion I will have with you again. Now: _You _are my brother, and I promise you one is more than enough. Helblindi and I are comfortable as cousins. That is all." He frowned. "But since when are you so respectful of my secrets? As I recall, last night you were willing to tear my arms off to get at them."

Thor made the expected protests and defenses. When he was _finally _satisfied that Loki was only joking, he got back on topic and admitted: "Father is going to pry whatever I know out of me. So, if there is anything you don't want him to hear, you had better not say it."

There were many possible answers Loki could give to that, beginning with a tirade about what _idiotic _policy it was to drive wedges between Thor and his most necessary counselor… but they were busy right now and this was not the time. He settled for reaching over and laying a soothing magic over Thor's burned wrist. "Thank you for the warning, brother."

* * *

He made Thor his _report_ when court was over,and Thor went off to go tattle to Odin, and before too long Loki was summoned to the royal suite.

Odin was waiting for him at his desk… and Frigga was sweeping around the room in a long golden ballgown. Half a dozen other gowns were laid out on the bed. Loki blinked. Greeted Odin with a bow and a murmur of _Allfather. _Then he cocked his head in Frigga's direction. "Mother. It's not New Years. It's not Father's birthday. Nobody's coming to visit. What are you doing?"

She was turning in front of a mirror, looking at herself from all sides. "Your father has said he's seriously considering leaving Asgard for a time. Hm." She turned a little further. "Come let this seam out for me."

"What?"

She faced him, scowling. "Will you force me to call a seamstress and admit that I can no longer fit into my favorite gown?"

"Mother…"

"Hush. Loki, come, it won't take long. Come here_._"

He did as he was told, went down to one knee and saw that she was right: the fabric was stretched too tightly across her hips now, just a little, bunching where it should lie smooth.

And here he was, a Prince of Asgard – practically a king – kneeling on the floor doing the work of women and servants. No wonder people felt so free to question his manhood.

"Thank you, dear," she said. "Spell it just a little looser, there where it's- yes, there." While he began to fiddle with possible enlarging spells she said over his head: "Odin, I'm sorry, this will only take a moment. But I _can't _be seen like this."

Odin hmphed. "Very well. Loki: I will meet you in the library," he said, and left. Closing the door behind him.

Loki sighed and knocked his head against her leg. "Thank you, Mother. I'm sure Father is _delighted _to see me sewing instead of out smashing things with an axe."

"Mm-hm." She puffed up her hair in the mirror. "That will keep him away for a while, don't you think?"

He stared up at her, suddenly aware that it might have been an error to keep his mother so thoroughly boxed out of politics lately. Her wit and experience could have made her useful as much more than just a hostess at formal dinners. "Mother?"

"Now, where were we?" She didn't take her eyes off her hair. "Ah. Yes: your father has said he's considering leaving Asgard. He's _said._"

"But you don't quite believe him." Loki tried to keep up. "Then why are you packing?"

"To send a message." She laughed softly. "Your father may not _think_ he listens to me, but he often hears more than he means to."

Loki nodded. "How can I help?"

"_Tell him_," she answered at once. "Tell him about you and the frost-giants. Tell him how good they've been to you. How open to the friendship of Asgard. How much _you_, in particular, mean to their leader."

He suspected that if he did, Odin might suddenly rediscover the joys of banishment. He made a face. "Why? Doesn't he mistrust me enough already?"

"With the Jotuns at your back you command respect," she said. "He will respond to that."

_Respond how?_ he wanted to say, but he supposed he saw her point. If the balance of power were so tilted, if Jotunheim was friendly to Asgard_through Loki,_ then he gained an importance that Odin could not ignore. Odin could not shunt him off to the side then. In fact, he might well decide to firm up relationships with other realms _himself _in order to keep things even.

He nodded and got to his feet. "You are wise as ever, Mother."

"Mm."

He kissed her and made to leave, but she caught his arm and tugged him back. "The Allfather can wait five minutes," she declared. "I really do need my gown fixed."

* * *

**TBC.**

**Gah, I'm sorry this is both late and short. But the Loki/Odin conversation – in which Stuff Starts To Happen – was taking me longer than I expected to write. So here's this much so far, and we'll hear from those two as soon as I can finish it up.**


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